IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


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Canadian  institute  for  Historical  Micrureproductions  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 

1980 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checlted  below. 


D 
D 
D 
D 


D 
D 
D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagde 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur6e  et/ou  pelliculde 


Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


.     1    Coloured  maps/ 


D 


Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Relid  avec  d'autres  documents 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  int^rieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout^es 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  fiim^es. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl6mentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6X6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-dtre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mdthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 
D 
D 
0 
D 


n 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur6es  et/ou  pellicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d6color6es,  tachetdes  ou  piqu6es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ddtachdes 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


□    Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Quality  indgale  de  I'impression 

I      I    Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Comprend  du  matdriel  supplementaire 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  filmdes  d  nouveau  de  fagon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


1 
P 

0 

f 


C 
fa 

tl 
s 

0 

f 

s 

0 


7 
s 

1 

V 

l\ 

d 
e 
b 

ri 
n 
n 


y 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

y 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


•:sx 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  the  Public 
Archives  of  Canada 


L'exemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grflce  d  la 
g6n6ro8it6  de: 

La  bibliothdque  de:  Archives 
publiques  du  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet6  de  l'exemplaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimde  sont  film^s  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmds  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ♦►  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — »•  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  d  des  taux  de  rdduction  diffdrents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichd,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  sup6rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mithode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

FLAX-BREAKER 


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rLAX-HKtAKfiH 


CANADIAN 

FOLK-  LIFE 

AND 

FOLK-LORE 

BY 

WILLIAW  PARKER  GREENOUGH 
"G.DE  MONTAV/BAN" 

jsrc.,erc. 


UITH 
ILLUSTRATIONS 


N'-A'\':-i;f»/-;>t.VV''V''V-%''K''''''''>'y'.''''^'.r/.''» 'I' ''/'•/■  ■•''■■■■';^ 


^    -^^      WALTER  C. GREENOUGH 


\- 


GEORGE  HRICHA\OND 

I897 


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Gr1 


Copyrighted,  1S97,  by 
William  Parker  Greenough 


TO 

SIR  H.  G.  JOLY  DE  LOTBINIERE, 

ONE  OF  THE  TRUEST  OF  CANADIANS, 

I  DEDICATE   THIS   BOOK. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


PAOE 

Introduction ix 

PART 

I.    My  Friends,  the  Habitants  of  Canada 3 

II.    Animal  Life  and  Fish 17 

III.  Occupations ...  33 

IV.  AAIUSEMENTS— CONTES  AND   RACONTEURS 45 

V.    The  Church 67 

VI.  Marriages  and  Festivities 85 

VII.  The  Feudal  System      101 

VIII.  Changes  in  Type 115 

IX.  Chansons  Canadiennes 129 

X.  Language— Education 149 

XI.  Conveyances 161 

XII.  Some  National  Characteristics 169 

XIII.    A  Winter  Excursion 179 


^, 


* 
•« 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FLAX-BREAKER r  *    *• 

rronttspiece 

PRESCOTT  GATE  {,«W.) Facing  page      x 

PRESCOTT  GATE  [outside) ..  ,;; 

'•*••••  All 

HOPE   GATE „ 

PALACE  HILL ..  . 

ST.  LOUIS  GATE „  „ 

THE   REAPER „ 

PLOUGHING    ...  »  ., 
13 

FLAX-BREAKING „  .  . 

BEAVERS'  HUT 

NAZAIRE      „ 

LOG-DRIVING     ...  «  ,„ 
50 

STORY-TELLING     .    .  <<  ro 

5o 

CALVAIRE ..  ^^ 


IN  THE   PROCESSION     .  l^     ■       ^  . 

racing  page     74 

BEFORE   AN   ALTAR 

76 

CANADIAN  FARM-HOUSE 

VERCHERES     .     . 

"  112 

WINTER  (Emblematical) «  , 

CROSSING   THE   LAKE    ...  »  ,o, 

lo7 

WINTER    SUNRISE  


INTRODUCTION 


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INTRODUCTION 


I) 


Within  the  last  few  years  travellers,  and  especially 
American  travellers,  have  felt  that  their  tours  on  this  con- 
tinent were  incomplete  unless  they  included  a  visit  to  the 
venerable,  historic,  and  picturesque  city  of  Quebec.  In 
antiquity  it  has  few  equals  in  the  New  World,  in  pic- 
turesqueness  and  beauty  of  situation  it  is  unequalled,  and 
in  historic  interest  it  has  no  rival. 

Quebec  indeed  well  repays  the  visitor,  whether  he 
be  the  vacation  tourist  or  the  leisurely  student  of  times 
and  manners.  For  the  one  a  day  or  a  week  may  be  well 
spent  in  simple  sight-seeing,  and  for  the  other  a  month  or  a 
year  may  be  made  to  yield  new  pleasures  every  day. 

Most  of  the  visitors  to  Quebec,  however,  come  in  sum- 
mer, and  the  winter  aspects  and  charms  of  the  city  were 
until  recently  but  little  known  and  little  appreciated. 

The  winter  carnivals  of  1 894  and  1 896  brought  to  the 
city  a  goodly  number  of  strangers,  not  one  of  whom  left 
it  without  carrying  away  delightful  recollections  of  strik- 
ing scenes  and  unexpected  pleasures.  The  carnivals  were 
general  festivals  in  which  every  one  had  a  share.  The 
lookers-on  were  as  interesting  as  the  snowshoers  or  the 
ice  fortress.  Universal  hilarity  prevailed,  such  as  one 
would  expect  to  tind  only  in  climates  considered  more 
favorable  to  out-of-door  diversions. 


Introduction. 


English  and  American  visitors,  accustomed  to  take 
their  pleasures  soberly,  could  hardly  understand  how  a 
whole  city  could  be  so  completely  en  fete  as  was  Quebec 
at  these  times.  They,  however,  quickly  fell  into  the 
spirit  of  the  occasion,  and  each  gladly  contributed  his 
share  to  the  pleasures  of  the  rest.  Many  then  realized 
how  an  old  habitue  of  Quebec  would  love  it  as  well  in 
winter  as  in  summer. 

But  in  neither  summer  nor  winter  would  the  visitor 
see  much  of  the  country  people,  the  habitants.  He  might 
see  a  few  on  the  markets  or  elsewhere  and  be  interested 
in  some  of  their  peculiarities,  but  of  their  home  life,  a  life 
differing  at  so  many  points  from  his  own,  he  would  learn 
nothing. 

The  habitant  is  simply  the  farmer.  The  name  was 
given  to  those  early  settlers  wiio  remained  to  inhabit  the 
country,  to  distinguish  them  from  officials,  traders,  and 
others  who  were  not  expected  to  reside  in  it  permanently. 

For  many  years  business  relations  have  brought  me 
much  into  contact  with  the  habitants,  and  for  some  years 
past  have  induced  me  to  live  almost  constantly  among 
them.  My  friends  and  acquaintances,  finding  so  many 
interesting  points  about  the  people,  asked  me  many  ques- 
tions about  them.  As  I  had  at  some  seasons  of  the  year 
a  good  deal  of  leisure  it  occurred  to  me  to  write  out  my 
replies  to  these  questions,  and  perhaps  answer  others  not 
yet  asked  and  give  some  information  not  yet  called  for. 

Naturally,  the  matter  grew  under  my  hand,  and  I 
found  after  some  time  that  my  manuscript  had  increased 


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INTRODUCTION. 


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to  rather  a  formidable  pile,  all  the  more  so  that  since  my 
readers  were  expected  to  be  only  persons  with  whom  I  was 
acquainted  1  had  not  taken  pains  to  eliminate  the  personal 
element.  After  the  manuscript  had  passed  from  hand  to 
hand  until  it  was  worn  almost  to  fragments,  and  after 
many  people  had  said,  "  1  wish  you  would  get  this  printed 
and  send  me  a  copy,"  it  was  decided  to  put  the  matter  into 
type  and  reproduce  in  other  forms  some  of  the  photo- 
graphs and  sketches  that  accompanied  it. 

What  1  had  written  related  only  to  the  French  Cana- 
dian people  and  to  life  in  some  country  parishes.  Nothing 
was  said  about  people  of  other  races  who  came  into  the 
country  later,  but  now  form  an  important  though  not  very 
large  part  of  the  population.  They  demand  separate  con- 
sideration. 

Nor  had  I  said  anything  about  the  city  of  Quebec. 
Abler  writers  have  written  of  it  often  and  wdl.  But  when 
collecting  my  papers  for  the  printer,  1  found  1  had  some 
photographs  of  the  old  gates  of  the  city,  now  demolished. 
As  they  were  among  the  last  to  be  taken  and  are  becoming 
somewhat  rare,  I  decided  to  have  them  copied  in  half-tone 
and  inserted  in  this  volume,  partly  as  a  means  of  pres- 
ervation and  partly  because  they  may  revive  in  some 
people  memories  of  the  days  before  Quebec  became  mod- 
ernized. 

Public  convenience  doubtless  required  that  the  gates 
and  some  parts  of  the  old  fortifications  should  be  removed, 
but  their  removal  detracted  very  much  from  the  pictur- 
esqueness  and  distinctive  character  of  the  city. 


XII 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  three  gates  now  standing — two  of  them  on  the 
sites  of  the  old  ones — are  quite  modern  structures,  and 
harmonize  only  moderately  well  with  the  connecting  walls. 
One  of  them  (Kent  Gate)  is  entirely  a  recent  opening,  not 
belonging  to  the  old  system  of  fortifications.  Prescott 
Gate,  formerly  standing  on  Mountain  Hill,  Palace  Gate, 
about  half  way  up  Palace  Street,  and  Hope  Gate  have 
entirely  disappeared.  Their  sites  may  be  easily  located, 
although  the  immediate  surroundings  have  been  very 
much  changed. 


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MY  FRIENDS,  THE  HABITANTS 
OF  CANADA 


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MY  FRIENDS,  THE  HABITANTS 
OF  CANADA 


As  one  should  alwa}S  eat  of  the  menu  of  the  day  and 
drink  of  the  wine  of  the  country,  so  he  who  wishes  to  note 
and  most  enjoy  the  distir.ctive  features  of  Canada  should 
visit  her  in  winter,  for  it  is  then  that  shw  wears  her  native 
dress.  Her  summer  habiliments,  though  beautiful  and 
fascinating,  are  only  the  dress  of  a  fete  day.  She  begins 
to  decorate  herself  in  May,  but  it  is  not  till  the  days  are 
longest  that  she  appears  in  her  fullest  glory.  These  tran- 
sient adornments  are  again  laid  aside  at  the  tirst  touch  of 
September  frosts,  to  reappear  in  their  perfection  only  when 
the  June  sun  begins  to  run  high.  Such  is  the  Canadian 
season, — a  short  four  months,  in  which  Nature  seems  to 
do  all  her  out-of-door  work.  For  the  long  remainder  ot 
the  year  her  retarded  but  no  less  poteni  activities  are  hid- 
den from  sight. 

When  I  speak  of  Canada  I  mean  the  Canada  of  old ; 
what  in  the  first  half  of  this  century  was  called  Lower 
Canada,  now  the  Province  of  Quebec.  The  other  Prov- 
inces of  the  eastern  part  of  the  Dominion  of  Canada  have 
their  own  distinctive  features,  but,  with  some  exceptions, 
they  are  of  more  ordinary,  well  known  character.  There 
is  grand  scenery  to  be  found  in  many  other  parts  of  the 
Dominion  also,  but  the  special  human  interest  of  Lower 
Canada  is  wanting.  Lower  Canada,  the  Province  of 
Quebec,  has  scenery,  climate,  institutions,  people,  history, 
of  its  own,  all  peculiar  and  unlike  tliose  of  any  of  the 
other  Provinces. 


I 


4  MY   FRIENDS,  THE    HABITANTS   OF  CANADA. 

It  is  of  them  and  of  iheai  only  that  I  propose  to  write, 
and  mainly,  too,  of  country  and  winter  life,  of  which  the 
ordinary  tourist  or  visitor  sees  but  very  little. 

Some  people  have  an  idea  that  the  climate  of  Canada 
in  winter  is  that  of  the  Arctic  regions.  The  climate  is 
cold,  it  is  true,  but  it  is  an  endurable  cold,  dry  and  clear; 
far  less  trying  than  the  damp  airs  of  eastern  New  Eng- 
land, even  at  the  difference  of  to  or  15  degrees  of  the 
thermometer.  Still,  many  may  be  surprised  to  learn  that 
Quebec  is  150  miles  farther  south  than  Paris,  325  miles 
south  of  London,  67?  miles  south  of  Glasgow,  and  1025 
miles  south  of  St.  Petersburg.  Westward  from  Quebec 
the  same  parallel  passes  not  far  from  Duluth,  Minnesota, 
and  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  river.  Crossing  the 
Pacific  we  should  touch  the  northern  part  of  Japan  and 
the  southernmost  points  of  Siberia,  and  then  away  across 
the  whole  of  China  into  southern  Russia.  Going  east 
on  the  same  parallel  we  should  pass  near  Lyons  in  France 
and  the  line  between  Switzerland  and  Italy,  and  should  go 
far  south  of  all  Germany  and  through  the  southern  part 
of  Hungary.  It  was  said  in  the  old  "  Peter  Parley's  Geog- 
raphy," that  I  studied  when  I  w?s  a  small  boy,  that  Que- 
bec has  the  summer  of  Paris  ana  the  winter  of  St.  Peters- 
burg. 

The  greatest  cold  that  I  have  personally  recorded  was 
38  degrees  below  zero,  and  that  was  in  the  woods.  Prob- 
ably in  the  city  of  Quebec  or  in  particularly  exposed  places 
it  was  at  that  time  42 '^  or  45*  below.  But  this  was  only 
for  a  few  hours,  and  it  did  not  prevent  the  lumbermen 
from  working  as  usual.  Of  course  feet  and  fingers,  ears 
and  faces,  would  soon  be  frozen  if  carelessly  exposed  to 
such  a  temperature  ;  but  the  workingman,  thickly  clad  in 
three  or  four  heavy  tl  mnel  shirts  and  pairs  of  trousers,  anJ 
with  numberless  pairs  of  stockings  on  his  feet,  experiences 


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MY  FRIENDS,  THE   HABITANTS   OF  CANADA. 


no  inconvenience.  From  about  10"  above  to  10°  below 
zero,  if  without  wind,  is  very  comfortable  winter  weather, 
and  the  Canadian  climate  furnishes  a  good  deal  of  it.  It 
is  not  cold  enough  to  interfere  with  almost  any  business 
or  pleasure  that  the  people  may  have  in  hand. 

The  spring  may  be  considered  to  come  on  late,  but 
once  started,  vegetation  advances  with  wonderful  rapidity. 
Fields  will  usually  be  covered  with  snow  till  the  middle  of 
April  and  sometimes  even  later,  but  in  two  or  three  days 
after  it  is  gone  the  grass  is  up  fresh  and  bright.  The 
ground  is  seldom  frozen  deep  before  it  is  covered  with 
snow,  and  so  as  soon  as  the  snow  is  gone  the  frost  is  out, 
and  on  dry  land  ploughing  can  be  commenced  at  once. 

If  the  spring  comes  late,  the  autumn  comes  early. 
Heavy  frosts  may  be  expected  in  September,  and  by  the 
middle  of  October  everything  liable  to  be  damaged  by 
cold  weather  should  be  harvested. 

Naturally,  growth  must  be  extremely  rapid,  so  rapid  in 
fact  that  its  progress  is  perceptible  from  day  to  day. 

For  instance,  the  writer  had  occasion  to  go  to  a  fishing 
camp  which  was  on  the  edge  of  a  lake  and  surrounded  by 
thick  woods,  on  the  18th  or  19th  of  May.  In  the  open 
country  the  roads  were  passable  for  wheeled  vehicles,  but 
once  in  the  woods  the  way  was  a  succession  of  mud-holes 
and  snow-banks.  The  lake  was  crossed  on  the  ice,  and 
on  this  occasion  on  foot,  for  greater  caution,  although 
only  two  or  three  days  before  horses  had  crossed  on  it. 
On  the  20th  the  ice  looked  dangerous,  and  bits  of  open 
water  could  be  seen  ;  on  the  21st  these  spaces  were  much 
larger,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  22d  scarcely  any  ice 
was  visible.  The  country  people  say  it  does  not  melt, 
but  becomes  saturated  with  water  and  sinks  nearly  all  at 
once. 

On  the  20th  there  were  few  si|;ns  of  spring  noticeable 


MY   FRIENDS,  THE   HABITANTS  OF  CANADA. 


on  the  hills  that  faced  to  the  north,  opposite  the  camp. 
We  could  discern  a  slight  freshness  in  the  evergreens  and 
some  swelling  of  buds  on  birches  and  maples,  but  that  was 
all.  The  21st  showed  a  decided  change,  and  on  the  24th 
those  hills  were  almost  a  mass  of  verdure,  growing  thicker 
and  richer  with  each  succeeding  day.  Still  we  had  no 
difficulty  in  tinding  snow  in  which  to  pack  our  fish. 

On  the  20th  of  September  following,  four  months  later, 
the  trees  began  to  look  decidedly  brown,  and  every  now 
and  then  some  bright  crimsons  of  maples  and  yellows  of 
birches  stood  out  sharply.  The  morning  of  the  2tst 
showed  a  wonderful  change,  and  two  or  three  days  later 
reds  and  yellows  were  the  predominant  colors,  and  the 
evergreens  had  lost  all  their  freshness.  In  only  four 
months  all  this  mass  of  forest  growth  had  budded,  blos- 
somed, ripened,  and  faded. 

As  in  the  forests  so  it  is  in  the  fields,  and  the  farmer's 
work  on  his  crops  must  mainly  be  done  in  this  short  time. 
But  this  time  is  a  time  of  beauty.  So  much  has  been 
said  and  written  of  the  winter  climate  of  Canada  that 
people  are  apt  to  think  that  it  has  no  other,  which  is  an 
entirely  erroneous  idea.  Later  May  and  June  are  beauti- 
ful, rich  with  ever-changing  hues  of  springing  grass  and 
bursting  vegetation.  July  and  August  see  them  mature 
and  begin  to  ripen,  while  September  and  October  are  the 
months  of  all-completed  harvest.  There  is  no  dallying. 
Nature  keeps  the  farmer  busy,  and  every  day  shows  what 
she  is  doing  for  him.  It  is  not  here  that  spring  comes 
slowly  with  scarcely  noticeable  steps,  as  in  more  southern 
regions.  She  comes  late  but  not  slowly,  opening  suddenly 
on  us  with  a  splendid  outburst.  Winter  lingers,  loath  to 
go  and  eager  to  come  again ;  but  between  the  going  and 
the  coming  are  some  most  delightful  months, — no  scorch- 


-0 

> 

r- 
> 


I  T. 


I  ' 


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-J 


MY   FRIENDS,  THE   HABITANTS  OF  CANADA. 


ing  heats,  no  debilitating'  nights,  but  an  ever  fresh  and 
invigorating  air. 

Oh,  no,  it  is  not  always  winter  in  Canada. 

As  in  speaking  of  Canada  1  mean  only  the  Province  of 
Quebec,  and  especially  that  part  of  it  not  very  far  from 
the  city  of  Quebec,  so  also  in  speaking  of  Canadians  1 
mean  only  the  French  people  of  that  Province  ;  for  there 
the  French  consider  themselves  the  only  true  Canadians, 
all  others  being,  as  it  were,  foreigners  and,  in  a  sense, 
intruders.  When  not  classed  in  a  mass  as  Irish,  from  the 
most  numerous  of  the  foreign  nationalities,  they  are  men- 
tioned as  either  Irish,  Scotch,  English,  or  otherwise,  but 
not  as  Canadians.  On  the  cars  a  few  days  ago  a  man 
gave  the  population  of  his  parish  as  so  many  "  Irlandais" 
and  so  many  Canadians,  meaning  by  "  Irlandais  "  all  those 
not  French.  Americans  resident  in  Canada  fall  into  the 
habit  of  making  the  same  distinction  to  some  extent.  If 
we  speak  of  a  person  as  a  Canadian  he  is  at  once  assumed 
to  be  French.  If  he  is  not  French  we  must  designate  his 
origin,  for  among  the  French  people  generally  to  have 
been  born  in  Canada  does  not  make  a  man  a  Canadian. 
Some  leaders  of  public  feeling  among  the  French  encour- 
age this  sentiment.  So  English  Canadians  very  generally 
designate  all  citizens  of  the  United  States  as  Yankees, 
although  the  French  call  them  Americains.  Not  long  ago 
an  American  gentleman,  being  offended  at  the  tone  in 
which  the  word  Yankee  was  applied  to  his  countrymen 
by  an  English  Canadian,  retaliated  by  designating  the 
French  people  as  Canadians  and  the  others  as  "  Kanucks." 
Though  it  answered  the  speaker's  purpose  there  was  no 
real  sense  in  the  distinction.  Along  the  borders  of  the 
States,  and  indeed  throughout  New  England,  the  word 
"  Kanuck  "  is  applied  to  Canadians  generally. 

The  Province  can  and  does  claim  an  enormous  extent 


I 


8 


MY   FRIENDS,  THE  HABITANTS  OF  CANADA. 


of  land  yet  unexplored.  Whether  much  of  it  is  even 
worth  exploring  is  not  known  ;  at  all  events  it  is  not 
wanted  or  likely  to  be  wanted  for  ages.  It  is  hardly  pos- 
sible that  there  can  be  either  cultivable  land  or  valuable 
timber  on  by  far  the  greater  part  of  it.  A  veteran  sur- 
veyor who  was  sent  many  years  ago  to  explore  for  timber 
the  country  far  north  of  Lake  St.  John  found  nothing  of 
value  and  turned  back.  Possibly  that  may  have  been  only 
a  local  condition  on  account  of  the  region  having  been 
devastated  by  fire  in  some  bygone  century.  A  recent  ex- 
plorer is  said  to  have  found  immense  forests  of  spruce, 
but  the  unauthenticated  statements  imputed  to  him  are 
not  confirmed  in  his  official  report,  and  seem  to  pass  the 
limits  of  probability. 

It  is  probable  that  agents  and  factors  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company  could  give  much  information  about  that 
part  of  Canada  if  they  would  ;  but  the  policy  of  the  com- 
pany has  always  been  that  of  secrecy.  Formerly  no 
explorer  could  go  far  into  the  company's  territories  with- 
out help  that  could  only  be  found  at  the  company's  posts. 
if  an  unfortunate  explorer  needed  help  to  get  out  he  could 
have  it,  but  if  one  M'anted  to  go  in  the  other  direction  he 
would  find  the  obstacles  almost  insurmountable.  Since 
the  Dominion  Government  has  acquired  jurisdiction  over 
that  region,  however,  the  difficulty  has  been  somewhat 
lessened,  and  government  explorers  at  least  have  been  able 
to  go  wherever  they  desired. 

The  immediate  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  once  doubt- 
less forming  part  of  the  bed  of  the  river,  is  very  narrow, 
seldom  more  than  one  or  two  miles  in  width,  and  broken 
by  numerous  points  and  headlands,  on  some  of  which  are 
now  perched  picturesque  Canadian  villages  with  their 
equally  picturesque  parish  churches.  One  can  easily 
imagine  the  delight  of  the  first  explorers  of  the  river  as 


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MY   FRIENDS,  THE   HABITANTS  OF  CANADA. 


I 


they  passed  these  lands,  then  covered  with  a  luxurious 
growth  of  elm,  ash,  and  other  trees  that  indicated  a  won- 
derful fertility  of  soil.  This  magnificent  verdure  hid  from 
sight  the  inhospitable  hills  that  were  a  short  distance  away. 
But  to  the  original  settler  the  wood  was  his  enemy,  and 
his  first  efforts  were  directed  to  cutting  it  down  and  clear- 
ing it  away.  As  there  was  no  market  for  it,  it  could  only 
be  burned. 

The  soil  is  a  rich  alluvium,  and  still  yields  abundantly. 
Away  from  these  fertile  valleys  of  the  St.  Lawrence  and 
the  rivers  falling  into  it  the  land  rises  sharply  in  terraces 
to  other  levels,  with  a  sandy  soil,  extending  to  the  base 
of  the  hills.  Most  of  this  land  is  now  cleared  and  culti- 
vated, the  lower  levels  with  fair  but  the  upper  levels  with 
only  very  moderate  results. 

The  main  body  of  improved  and  cultivated  land  north 
of  the  St.  Lawrence  is  that  lying  between  that  river  and  the 
Laurentian  hills,  which  seem  to  come  down  to  the  water's 
edge  at  Les  Eboulements,  about  one  hundred  and  tifty  miles 
below  Quebec,  and  extend  nearly  west,  losing  their  distinct- 
ive name  somewhere  about  north  of  Montreal,  although  in 
fact  the  range  continues  to  and  beyond  the  head  of  Lake 
Superior.  As  the  general  course  of  the  river  is  towards 
the  northeast,  the  width  of  this  cultivable  strip  generally 
increases  as  one  goes  west.  Near  Quebec  it  does  not 
exceed  nine  miles,  and  continues  about  the  same  for  some 
sixty  or  seventy  miles  westerly,  widening  only  slowly  in 
the  main,  but  with  considerable  good  land  along  the  banks 
of  several  tributary  streams. 

But  when  once  we  have  reached  the  base  of  the  Lauren- 
tian hills  the  areas  of  good  farming  land  are  small  and 
scattered.  It  is  only  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lake  St. 
John  that  there  is  any  considerable  amount  of  it.  Just 
how  much  there  is,  is  not  really  known  and  is  the  subject 


'      1         .•< 


10 


MY   FRIENDS,  THE   HABITANTS  OF  CANADA. 


of  much  dispute.  The  most  extravajj:ant  claims  are  made 
on  the  one  hand,  and  even  moderate  estimates  disal- 
lowed on  the  other.  This  lake  is  some  forty- five  miles 
long,  with  several  large  rivers  flowing  into  it.  All,  or 
nearly  all,  have  very  swift  currents  and  innumerable  falls 
and  rapids,  so  it  is  safe  to  assume  that  the  greater  part  of 
the  land  is  mountainous.  Although  the  farmers  of  that 
region  formerly  had  no  considerable  market  nearer  than 
Quebec,  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles  away,  over  roads 
only  passable  in  winter,  there  have  been  some  parishes 
near  the  lake  for  many  years.  The  Seigneur  de  Roberval 
established  a  settlement  there  as  early  as  1650,  but  per- 
ished in  the  wilderness. 

In  order  to  let  these  people  get  out  and  to  try  to  get  others 
to  go  in,  the  Quebec  and  Lake  St.  John  Railway  was  built 
a  few  years  ago,  and  in  these  respects  has  been  moder- 
ately successful.  A  good  many  settlers  have  gone  there, 
and  some  at  least  are  reported  to  be  doing  moderately  well. 
The  climate,  however,  is  treacherous,  and  although  the 
winters  are  claimed  to  be  milder  than  those  of  Quebec, 
late  and  early  frosts  are  much  to  be  feared.  Still,  many 
intelligent  and  enthusiastic  citizens  have  strong  hopes  that 
the  region  will  yet  come  to  be  an  important  section  of 
the  Province. 

On  the  south  side  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  approaching 
what  are  known  as  the  '*  Eastern  Townships,"  the  land  is 
very  much  better,  level  or  gently  rolling,  with  soil  fertile 
and  easily  worked.  There,  buildings  have  something  of 
the  appearance  of  those  of  a  well-to-do  New  England  farm- 
ing community.  North  of  the  St.  Lawrence  also,  going 
west  from  the  city  of  Three  Rivers  (about  ninety  miles  from 
Quebec),  wide,  rich,  and  well  cultivated  farms,  amply  pro- 
vided with  substantial  buildings  of  every  kind,  extend  far 
away  from  the  river's  bank. 


' 


THE   REAPER 


k.1 


l^ii 


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liil 

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MY  FRIENDS,  THE  HABITANTS  OF  CANADA. 


11 


These,  however,  are  not  the  parts  of  the  country  I  pro- 
pose to  write  about,  which  are  mainly  the  rougher  and 
less  favored  regions  nearer  the  city  of  Quebec. 

From  the  cabin  on  the  lake  already  spoken  of  one 
might  follow  the  line  of  longitude  to  the  North  Pole  with- 
out seeing  a  house  unless  by  accident  some  post  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  isolated  in  the  wilderness,  should 
be  stumbled  upon.  Yet  the  lake  is  less  than  fifteen  miles 
from  the  thickly  settled  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and 
only  some  thirty  miles  from  Quebec. 

in  these  sections  the  average  farmer  would  not  be  con- 
sidered, in  the  States,  to  be  a  very  thriving  person.  But 
his  wants  are  few  and  his  tastes  of  the  nplest,  so  that 
he  manages  to  feed  his  numerous  children,  pay  his  dues 
to  Church  and  State,  and  have  a  decent  suit  of  clothes  for 
Sundays  and  holidays.  He  must  be  very  poor  indeed  if 
he  cannot  make  a  respectable  appearance  at  church.  It  is 
a  matter  of  religion  with  him.  He  works  less  steadily 
and  with  less  intelligence  than  the  New  Englander,  but 
is  twice  as  well  satisfied  with  what  he  gets,  and  prob- 
ably quite  as  hap- 
py and  contented.  fX^^V 
He  makes  but  little 
progress  in  any  di- 
rection, but  feels  not 
the  slightest  uneasi- 
ness on  that  account. 
He  has  a  great  deal 
of  the  bliss  that  goes 
with  ignorance,  al- 
though the  last  two  or  three  decades  have  seen  much 
change  in  this  respect,  and  he  no  longer  insists  that  what 
was  good  enough  for  the  fathers  is  good  enough  for  him. 

The  farmers'  principal  crops  are  hay,  oats,  and  potatoes, 


vrw^^ 


I 


12 


:t\ 


I 


MY  FRIENDS,  THE  HABITANTS  OF  CANADA. 


With  these  are  some  buckwheat  and  other  articles  of 
minor  importance,  mainly  for  the  family  use.  Some 
tobacco  is  everywhere  raised  for  home  consumption,  but 
almost  always  of  very  inferior  quality.  A  few  cattle  and 
hogs,  a  little  poultry,  and  a  very  few  sheep  are  kept. 
Canadian  cows  are  small,  but  hardy  and  good  milkers. 

Since  the  gen- 


i&s-  "'Z,ji 


.-^•'^■liai-^- 
•  ■,*•*!■ 


eral  introduc- 
tion of  butter 
and  cheese  fac- 
-"tories  the  prod- 
uct of  these  ar- 
ticles has  great- 
__"■  ly  increased 
and  the  qual- 
ity improved, 
so  that  cattle 
raising  is  a  little  more  profitable  than  formerly.  Some 
years  ago  only  the  dairies  of  the  best  English  and  Scotch 
farmers  produced  butter  of  very  high  grade,  but  now  the 
factories  fully  equal  or  surpass  them.  No  strictly  first-class 
fat  cattle  are  raised.  The  best  beef  on  the  Quebec  market 
mostly  comes  from  the  Province  of  Ontario  or  from  the 
"  Eastern  Townships,"  the  counties  along  and  near  the  line 
of  Maine,  New  Hampshire,  and  Vermont.  Neither  is  the 
raising  of  horses  profitable  of  late  years.  The  race  of 
Canadian  horses  that  was  famous  fifty  or  seventy-five 
years  ago  has  entirely  disappeared,  and  its  equal  for  speed 
and  hardiness  has  not  been  found.  It  seems  a  pity  that  a 
breed  so  entirely  suited  to  the  general  wants  of  the  com- 
munity should  have  become  extinct.  Short  legged,  heavy 
bodied,  and  broad  chested,  with  intelligent  eyes  and  wide 
nostrils,  they  could  endure  more  hard  work  and  hard  fare 
than  any  of  the  races  that  have  supplanted  them.    With- 


•  fimu, 


w 


w 


'a 


r 


\ 


MY  FRIENDS,   THE   HABITANTS  OF  CANADA. 


13 


ti 


out  being  extremely  swift  they  were  good  drivers  and 
could  take  the  traveler  over  as  much  road  as  he  could 
endure  driving  over  in  one  day. 

Women  and  girls  help  a  good  deal  in  field  work  but  not 
so  generally  now  as  formerly.  It  is  not  unusual  to  see  a 
horse  and  an  ox  harnessed  together  with  a  man  holding 
the  plow  and  the  woman  driving.  1  saw  a  case  of  this 
kind  not  long  ago,  as  picturesque  to  the  looker-on  as  it 
was  devoid  of  encouragement  to  the  workers.  The  party 
was  plowing  on  the  steep  side  of  a  broken  gully  in  a  sandy 
soil  where  there  seemed  no  possible  chance  of  any  crop 
that  would  pay  for  an  hour's  labor.  Man,  woman,  horse, 
ox,  plow,  harness  and  land  looked  equally  forlorn.  A 
little  further  on  1  passed  a  man  and  boy  plowing  while  two 
women  and  seven  children  were  planting  potatoes  in  the 
furrows.  One  might  think  the  family  could  almost  eat 
the  expected  harvest  at  a  meal,  so  poor  was  the  prospect  of 
a  crop.  In  more  favorable  localities  the  women  only  work 
at  lighter  tasks,  making  hay,  harvesting  grain  and  the 
like.  Women  at  work  in  a  hay  field  in  the  pleasant  sum- 
mer weather  are  always  a  pretty  sight,  and  they  seem  to 
enjoy  the  occupation.  In  the  old  times,  when  all  the  grain 
was  cut  with  the  sickle,  there  was  much  hard  work  for 
women,  and  the  rounded  backs  and  shoulders  of  many  of 
the  old  farmers'  wives  still  tell  of  the  labors  they  endured. 
Modern  mowing  and  reaping  machines  have  done  much 
for  the  women  here. 

Formerly  a  good  deal  of  tlax  was  raised,  and  home- 
spun linen  was  the  rule.  Linen  is  now  cheaper  to  buy 
than  to  weave,  and  except  by  a  few  families  where  there 
are  many  women  for  whom  there  is  little  employment 
flax  is  not  much  cultivated. 

The  breaking  of  the  flax  affords  one  of  the  most  pict- 
uresque sights  to  be  found.  It  is  almost  always  done  in 
3 


Vi.y/<^%it^U'i  f-lMW  •  *W>^**-t«i»jw— «  — 


I 


14 


MY   FRIENDS,  THE   HABITANTS   OF   CANADA. 


some  pretty  little  nook,  where  there  is  plenty  of  shade,  and 
where  tire  can  be  made  without  dansier.  Heat  is  necessary 
to  separate  the  tibre  from  the  woody  portions  of  the  stalk, 
and  as  tlax  is  exceedingly  inflammable  there  must  be  no 
buildings  near.  It  is  dusty  work,  but  as  there  are  always 
a  number  of  women  at  it,  and  chatting  can  be  kept  up 
almost  without  intermission,  they  like  it. 

Pleasant  weather  in  the  month  of  October  adds  the 
charm  of  brilliant  autumn  foliage  and  bright  sunshine. 

But  with  all  his  labor  and  all  his  simplicity  of  life,  on 
the  unfertile  soils  near  the  foot  of  the  Laurentians,  the 
habitant  cannot  always  succeed  in  making  both  ends  meet, 
and  many  uncultivated  fields  and  deserted  dwellings  may 
be  seen,  the  owners  of  which  have  gone  to  seek  kinder 
fortunes  elsewhere.  The  land  yields  well  when  first 
cleared  and  while  the  ashes  of  the  burned  wood  serve  to 
fertilize  it,  but  when  these  are  exhausted  there  is  not  much 
good  in  the  soil. 

To  some  men  of  the  younger  generations  of  these  hab- 
itants abandoned  farms  of  New  England  have  seemed  to 
offer  greater  temptations  than  their  native  country  could 
show  them.  The  number  of  these  farmers  is  not  very 
great  but  1  understand  that  such  as  have  taken  such  farms 
have  almost  invariably  been  successful.  Patient  and 
frugal,  they  are  content  with  results  that  did_]  not  satisfy 
the  more  restless  and  ambitious  Americans. 


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ANIMAL  LIFE  AND  FISH 


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I,       I., 

1  ~     ■  i?^.'!.'ii;iii'iiiwniiu.«i 


ANIMAL  LIFE  AND   FISH 


The  stranger  in  Canadian  forests,  whether  in  sum- 
mer or  winter,  will  be  surprised  at  the  small  amount 
of  animal  life  to  be  seen.  In  winter  he  will  scarcely 
see  a  bird  unless  it  be  an  occasional  partridge,  now  and 
then  a  raven,  and  about  his  camp  a  few  "  whiskey  jacks " 
or  crossbills.  But  if  he  roams  much  in  the  woods  he 
will  find  plenty  of  evidence  of  a  life  that  does  not  show 
itself  openly.  Tracks  of  rabbits,  foxes,  martens  and  squir- 
rels will  be  found  everywhere.  Looking  carefully  along 
by  the  banks  of  streams  he  may  find  tracks  of  otter,  mink 
or  musk  rat.  If  the  stranger  is  a  hunter  and  has  a  good 
ritle  under  his  arm  he  will  be  on  the  lookout  for  caribou, 
almost  the  only  large  game  now  to  be  found  here  in 
winter,  for  the  moose  is  scarce  in  this  region  and  the  red 
deer  tinds  the  snow  too  deep  for  his  small  feet  and  keeps 
to  places  where  there  is  less  of  it. 

Caribou,  however,  are  reasonably  plenty,  and  the  skilled 
hunter  need  not  pass  many  days  during  the  proper  season 
without  finding  them.  If  they  have  not  been  disturbed 
there  will  most  likely  be  three  or  four  and  perhaps  ten  or 
a  dozen  together.  Although  timid  they  are  curious.  They 
sometimes  wander  into  villages  and  have  even  been  found 
in  fields,  and  driven  to  barns  with  cattle.  Quite  recently 
one  was  seen  one  evening  within  a  hundred  yards  of  a 
paper  mill  that  was  lighted  up  and  running,  and  another 
stood  for  some  time  where  a  man  might  have  shot  him 
from  his  bedroom  window.  Such  instances  are  somewhat 
rare  although  not  extremely  so.    The  hunter  who  is  for- 


f      'K 


fJ 


i8 


ANIMAL  LIFE   AND   FISH. 


'*  ij!    ' 


•ii 


tiinate  enough  to  get  on  a  fresh  trail  will  follow  it  up  care- 
fully, making  as  little  noise  as  possible,  and  with  a  fair 
chance  of  success.  If  the  snow  should  be  three  feet  or  so 
deep  the  caribou  will  not  go  far  without  stopping,  unless  he 
is  frightened.  If  he  is,  he  can  get  away  at  a  tremendous 
pace,  for  his  feet  spread  tolerably  wide  and  the  under  part 
of  the  hoof  is  somewhat  concaved,  causing  the  snow  to 
become  solid  under  it  instead  of  being  merely  thrust  aside, 
so  that  unless  the  snow  is  extremely  light  and  soft  they  will 
not  go  nearly  to  the  bottom  of  it.  He  has  also  a  way 
quite  peculiar  to  himself  of  putting  his  feet  to  the  ground, 
by  which  he  brings  the  "  dew-claws "  or  "  accessory 
hoofs,"  as  they  are  sometimes  called,  to  bear,  which  has 
the  effect  of  making  a  track  twice  or  three  times  the  size 
of  the  hoof  alone. 

The  caribou  seems  to  have  no  idea  whatever  of  per- 
sonal  comfort.  He  will  lie  down  to  rest  in  a  bed  of  slush, 
half  snow  and  half  ice  water,  or  on  a  hillock  of  grass 
scarcely  above  the  water's  edge.  He  has  no  fixed  home 
but  wanders  about  wherever  his  fancies  lead  him,  although 
if  he  happens  to  hit  on  good  feeding  ground  he  may  stay 
some  time  in  its  neighborhood.  His  senses  of  hearing 
and  smell  are  very  acute.  I  think,  however,  that  loud 
noises  for  which  his  instincts  cannot  account,  confuse  him. 
The  breaking  of  a  twig  may  start  a  whole  herd  on  the 
run  but  if  a  ritle  shot  kills  one  of  them  the  others  may 
circle  about  as  if  uncertain  what  direction  to  take.  On 
the  Q.  &  L.  St.  J.  Ry.  some  years  ago  some  friends  of 
mine  saw  a  herd  of  five  from  the  car  windows.  They 
stopped  the  train,  got  off  and  "  went  for  "  them. 

The  caribou  has  increased  rapidly  since  the  enactment 
and  partial  enforcement  of  suitable  game  laws.  Thorough 
enforcement  would  be  difficult.  The  open  season  is  now 
from  September  first  to  February  first,  live  months,  but 


i  I 


I.    I 


AMMAL   LIFE   AND   FISH. 


19 


ill  effect  these  are  practically  almost  reduceJ  to  two,  for 
there  can  be  no  great  amount  of  successful  hunting  until 
the  ground  is  well  covered  with  snow,  usually  about  the 
1st  of  December.  The  caribou  shed  tiieir  horns  usually 
in  November,  and  the  inaii  who  buys  a  tine  piinage 
to  ornament  his  dining  room  has  some  ground  to  >uspect 
that  the  animal  was  killed  when  l-e  ought  not  to  have 
been.  What  becomes  of  all  the  horns  dropped  in  the 
woods .''  The  writer 
has  never  found  but 
one  and  that  a  small 
one.  They  are  proba- 
bly quickly  found  and 
eaten  by  insects  and 
small  rodents. 

Mr.  Caspar  Whitney 
in  "  On  Snowshoes  to 
the  Barren  Grounds  "  - 
complains  bitterly  of 
the  absurd  ways  of  his 
Indians  in  hunting  the 
caribou,  rushing,  shout- 
ing and  tiring  guns  at 
random  instead  of  quietly  stalking  them,  A  gentleman 
who  has  hunted  caribou  on  the  Barren  Grounds  east  of 
Hudson's  Bay  tells  me  that  this  is  precisely  the  method  of 
the  Indians  in  that  region.  They  depend  on  getting  them 
confused  so  that  they  are  uncertain  where  to  go,  and  can 
be  cut  down  at  will,  for  the  caribou  is,  in  the  main,  a  very 
stupid  creature.  The  trouble  with  Mr.  Whitney  was  that 
he  had  not  Indians  enough. 

To  give  an  idea  of  the  numbers  of  the  caribou  on  the 
edge  of  the  Barren  Grounds,  a  Hudson's  Bay  Co.'s  factor 
told  an  acquaintance  of  mine  that  he  laid  in  a  stock  of 


I 


Chasseur. 


f-'a«1l.»'»»SPM.qteW 


I" 


V  ■ 


u 


\   b 


■  \' 


20 


ANIMAL   LIFE    AND   FISH. 


nine  hundred  carcasses  for  the  winter's  supply  of  his  post. 
Another  man  tells  me  he  has  seen  in  Labrador  herds 
of  three  or  four  hundred.  In  the  swamps  of  the  interior 
of  Newfoundland  similar  herds  are  often  seen. 

The  Barren  Grounds  extend,  as  doubtless  most  of  my 
readers  know,  nearly  or  quite  across  the  Continent,  from 
the  interior  of  Labrador  on  the  east  to  Alaska  on  the  west, 
and  from  the  limit  of  timber  on  the  south  away  into  the 
Arctic  Circle.  In  the  depths  of  this  region  of  desolation 
Mr.  Whitney  says  no  living  creature  exists  in  winter 
except  the  musk-ox.  No  vegetation  except  mosses  and 
lichens  can  be  found  there.  Even  the  caribou  merely 
skirts  its  borders. 

Moose  are  now  seldom  seen  in  this  region.  Hunting, 
lumbering,  settlements,  and  in  some  places  railroads,  have 
either  destroyed  or  driven  them  away.  Not  that  they  are 
extinct  by  any  means,  for  a  few  are  found  every  year 
within  reach  of  hunters ;  but  if  they  are  plenty  anywhere 
it  is  in  places  that  the  sportsman  would  find  it  hard  to  get 
at.  Only  the  Indian,  who  makes  very  little  account 
of  distances  and  can  exist  almost  anywhere,  and  to  whom 
the  meat  is  valuable,  could  tind  it  worth  his  while  to  follow 
them  to  their  haunts.  For  sporting  purposes  they  appear 
to  be  far  more  plentiful  in  Maine  and  Nova  Scotia  thin 
north  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Powerful  as  they  are  they  do 
not  like  too  deep  snow,  and  a  crust  is  their  abomination, 
for  they  break  through  it  and  cut  their  legs.  The  writer 
has  never  happened  to  meet  one  in  the  woods  although 
in  his  early  experience,  thirty  or  thirty-five  years  ago, 
he  very  often  came  across  their  tracks  and  sometimes  their 
"yards."  These  "yards  "are  more  exactly  a  net-work 
of  paths  beaten  in  the  deep  snow  on  some  good  feeding 
ground.  There  the  animals  remain,  browsing  within  a 
limited  area  for  days  or  weeks  at  a  time.    They  are  likely 


1,  1, 


ANIMAL   LIFE   AND   FISH. 


21 


[post, 
lerds 
ferior 

my 
rom 
^est, 
the 
|ition 
inter 
and 
rely 


also  to  return  to  the  same  neighborhood  year  after  year, 
finding  a  larger  supply  of  fresh  and  tender  twigs  and 
branches  than  in  localities  not  previously  cropped.  If  the 
hunter  finds  one  of  these  yards  he  is  tolerably  sure  of  his 
game,  for  it  cannot  easily  get  far  away.  Whether  shoot- 
ing the  creatures  under  such  circumstances  comes  within 
the  limits  of  "sport"  is  another  question.  1  have  heard 
that  in  the  times  when  there  was  a  garrison  at  Quebec  in- 
cluding many  Hnglish  officers  who  wanted  amusement  and 
cared  nothing  for  the  cost,  whenever  Indians  or  others  in 
roaming  about  the  woods  found  one  of  these  yards  they 
would  hasten  to  town  and  inform  their  clients,  who  would 
return  with  their  guides  and  shoot  every  moose  to  be 
found. 

Moose  although  scarce,  as  already  st-'+'^d,  seem  to  be 
slowly  increasing  in  number  under  the  operation  of  judi- 
cious game  laws. 

Fur  bearing  animals  have  been  driven  away  by  civiliza- 
tion, but  hunters  and  trappers  who  will  go  far  enough  for 
them  still  get  a  good  supply.  Necessarily,  aside  from  the 
numbers  killed,  they  become  more  scarce  as  their  habitats 
are  encroai  led  upon.  It  is  not  merely  that  they  are  com- 
pelled to  migrate,  but  the  natural  balance  is  disturbed  and 
the  struggle  for  life  becomes  too  fierce  for  them. 

The  beaver,  once  so  plentiful  that  their  skins  formed 
the  principal  article  of  commerce  of  the  country,  ship- 
ments of  tens  of  thousands  of  them  being  made  yearly, 
are  now  almost  as  rare  as  the  moose.  They  are  not  ex- 
tinct or  alarmingly  near  extinction,  but  persistent  hunting 
for  three  centuries  and  the  advance  of  civilization  have 
not  only  reduced  their  numbers  but  driven  most  of  the 
remainder  into  other  regions.  I  could  still  tind  new  made 
dams  and  lately  built  cabams,  but  they  are  scarce.  Hunt- 
ing them  in  this  Province  is  now  forbidden  until  the  year 


I 


ft 


I 


\        ll 


\  u 


22 


ANIMAL  LIFE   AND   FISH. 


1900,  which  will  give  them  a  respite.  They  will  perhaps 
not  return  to  their  old  homes  but  build  new  ones  a  few 
miles  away,  for  they  are  accustomed  to  migrate  to  some 
extent.  After  inhabiting  a  certain  neighborhood  for  a  few 
years  they  may  suddenly  desert  it  for  no  known  reason 
and  establish  themselves  on  other  water  courses,  going 
considerable  distances  over  land  and  possibly  directly  over 
some  mountain  in  order  to  reach  them. 

Accounts  of  the  wonderful  sagacity  of  these  little  creat- 
ures may  be  found  in  almost  any  work  on  natural  history 
but  I  have  heard  of  one  point  that  1  do  not  remember  to 
have  seen  noted.  Almost  any  woodsman  felling  trees 
will  occasionally  let  one  fall  so  that  it  will  lodge  on  other 
trees  and  not  come  to  the  ground.  The  beaver  never 
does  this.  When  he  fells  a  tree  it  comes  quite  down  and 
always  falls  towards  the  water.  Then  with  those  sharp 
little  teeth  of  his  he  cuts  it  up  into  lengths  that  he  can 
handle  and  stacks  them  up  for  his  winter's  provision, 
quite  near  to  his  cabane.  His  food  is  mainly  the  inner 
bark  and  part  of  the  sap-wood  of  birch,  alder,  mountain 
ash  and  some  other  deciduous  trees.  Unlike  his  neigh- 
bor, the  otter,  he  does  not  eat  tish. 

It  is  a  little  curious  to  note  that  in  the  history  of  the 
early  trade  of  the  country  little  or  no  mention  is  made  of 
any  skins  except  those  of  the  beaver,  and  thij  at  a  time 
when  furs  were  the  only  export  of  Canada  and  when 
other  furs  now  accounted  valuable  were  proportionately 
plentiful. 

A  friend  has  given  me  a  sectional  sketch  of  a  beaver's 
cabane  and  many  items  of  information  about  their  habits, 
some  of  which  perhaps  may  not  be  generally  known.  1 
can  only  give  a  few  of  his  statements,  as  many  of  them 
belong  more  properly  to  the  realm  of  the  naturalist.  His 
information  was  derived  partly  from  much  hunting  of  the 


\     1 


ON 


U.i 


i 


I  i 


1      r 


V- 


fl 


-  ii 


ii^^ 


ANIMAL   LIFE   AND  FISH. 


23 


animals  during"  years  of  service  with  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Co.  and  in  part  from  Indians  with  whom  his  duties 
brought  him  into  constant  intercourse  and  whose  language 
he  speaks  with  perfect  fluency.  The  Indians  have  num- 
berless myths  and  superstitions  concerning  the  beaver  but 
as  my  friend  is  a  close  observer  he  was  able  to  reject  what- 
ever of  their  histories  he  did  not  tind  in  accord  with  his 
own  conclusions. 

The  construction  of  the  beaver's  hut  and  his  method  of 
building  dams  are  very  generally  understood,  but  may  be 
new  to  some.  Both  are  built  of  sticks  somewhat  inter- 
laced and  plastered  and  held  together  with  clay.  The 
huts,  in  general  size  and  shape,  much  resemble  an  ordinary 
hay -cock.  They  are  built  close  to  the  water's  edge  on 
the  banks  of  lakes  whose  outlets  can  be  dammed.  When 
the  water  is  low  the  beaver  commences  his  hut  and  at  the 
same  time  begins  to  dam  the  stream.  The  hut  is  com- 
pletely circular  except  for  a  space  of  say  eighteen  inches 
in  width,  which  he  leaves  for  the  purpose  of  ingress  and 
egress.  As  the  hut  progresses  he  raises  the  height  of  his 
dam  and  when  the  water  is  high  enough  he  arches  over 
this  aperture  also,  so  that  the  opening  is  at  last  entirely 
under  water.  Then  he  goes  on  and  completes  his  house. 
The  outside  he  leaves  rough  but  if  auy  sticks  or  bunches 
of  clay  protrude  on  the  inside  those  he  gnaws  off,  leaving 
the  inner  wall  quite  smooth.  Then  he  proceeds  to  build 
inside  the  hut  a  table  or  shelf,  occupying  the  whole  space 
except  that  left  for  his  doorway.  This  table  he  makes 
slightly  concave,  tilling  up  the  hollow  with  chips,  not  of 
short  cuttings  but  of  long  strips,  much  like  those  thrown 
otf  by  a  carpenter's  plane.  On  this  the  beavers  live  and 
sleep.  The  huts  are  high  enough  to  allow  them  to  sit  up 
on  their  haunches  and  play  and  amuse  themselves  to- 
gether, which   they   do  a  great  deal.     They   are   great 


I 


■'Iri 


!// 


r 


i^. 


i 


24 


ANIMAL   LIFE    AND   FlSH. 


chatterers  and  act  as  if  they  had  a  speech  of  their  own. 
As  the  otter  will  slide  down  a  slippery  bank  into  the  water 
and  come  out  and  slide  again  in  pure  play,  precisely  like 
a  parcel  of  schoolboys  coasting,  so  the  beaver  disports 
himself  by  jumping  off  a  bank  into  the  lake,  using"  his 
broad,  flat  tail  to  give  himself  a  spring. 

The  shelf  or  table  in  the  hut  is  from  three  to  five  inches 
above  the  level  of  the  water  when  the  dam  is  finished.  If 
the  water  afterwards  rises  so  that  his  house  is  in  danger  of 
being  flooded  he  goes  to  the  dam  and  pulls  out  sticks 
enough  to  let  off  the  surplus.  If  the  water  goes  down  he 
builds  his  dam  higher. 

The  beaver  does  not  usually  eat  in  his  cabin  but  goes 
outside  for  his  meals.  The  inside  is  always  perfectly 
clean  and  dry.  Although  he  comes  in  from  the  water  he 
is  not  wet  for  the  water  runs  off  of  him  as  from  a  duck's 
back..  He  gives  his  feet,  which  may  be  slightly  wet,  a 
little  shake  to  throw  the  water  off,  so  that  he  carries  none 
of  it  to  his  bed. 

The  female  usually  has  two  young  at  a  birth,  sometimes 
four  and  very  rarely  six,  always  equally  divided  as  to  sex. 
If  the  hut  comes  to  be  too  small  for  the  family  it  is  en- 
larged by  gnawing  away  from  the  inside  and  building  up 
on  the  outside,  always  keeping  the  walls  about  eighteen 
inches  in  thickness.  A  family  or  a  part  of  the  same  fam- 
ily may  continue  to  occupy  the  same  hut  for  successive 
years,  although  they  breed  so  rapidly  that  if  unmolested 
some  must  necessarily  colonize.  My  friend  does  not  say 
but  1  have  heard  it  said  that  they  never  mate  in  the  same 
family.  If  the  colonists  can  find  an  old  and  partly  dilap- 
idated hut  they  will  set  themselves  to  repairing  it  rather 
than  build  a  new  one,  for  which  no  one  who  observes  the 
amount  of  labor  expended  on  one  can  in  any  way  blame 
them. 


n 


ANIMAL   LIFE   AND  FISH. 


25 


iter 
like 
Vts 
liiis 


If  anyone  reproaches  me  for  having  been  led  away  to 
tell  about  beavers  instead  of  sticking  to  "  my  friends,  the 
habitants,"  1  can  only  ask  him  to  be  a  little  indulgent  and 
to  try  to  look  on  the  beavers  themselves  as  habitants, 
predecessors  of  all  the  others,  and  without  whom  the 
others  would  not  have  existed.  Perhaps,  too,  there  are 
some  people  to  whom  the  habits  of  one  class  are  as  inter- 
esting as  those  of  the  other. 

The  comparative  scarcity  of  birds  in  the  woods  is  easily 
accounted  for.  There  is  but  little  for  them  to  eat ;  few 
nuts,  worms  or  insects,  grains  or  grasses.  Nut  bearing 
trees  are  few  and  of  insects  the  only  ones  that  seem  to  be 
superabundant  are  black  tlies  and  mosquitoes.  Of  these 
in  their  season  there  seem  to  be  far  too  many,  but  per- 
haps if  there  were  less  something  else  would  go  wrong 
and  we  may  be  better  of  with  them.  Doubtless  they 
serve  some  useful  purpose  although  it  would  be  hard 
to  convince  the  summer  fisherman  that  such  was  the  case. 
Of  birds  of  prey  there 
are  few  except  owls  and 
some  hawks.  Nearly  all 
the  birds  native  to  the 
northern  states  exist  al- 
so in  this  part  of  Canada 
but  not  in  generally 
great  numbers.  Ducks 
breed  in  suitable  locali- 
ties but  migrate  early. 
The  wild  goose  is  not 
rare.  Loons  are  plenty  ; 
being  tlsh  eaters  they  do 
not  depend  on  the  same 
conditions  as  most  other 
species.  Chasseuse. 


i 


r 


ri' 


>, 


I  ill 


'*■'' 


I' 


26 


ANIMAL   LIFE  AND   FISH. 


Alonji  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  a  good  many 
ducks  of  various  kinds,  snipe,  plover  and  other  small  shore 
birds,  are  to  be  found  at  the  proper  season  and  are  eagerly 
hunted.  Partridges  abound  and  an  occasional  woodcock 
may  be  "  raised,"  though  they  are  scarce.  1  know  of  one 
family  of  which  the  young  ladies  formerly  joined  iheir 
brothers  in  their  hunting  expeditions  and  were  almost 
equally  as  successful  as  they.  As  these  ladies,  however, 
are  now  all  married  and  gone  to  other  quarters  of  the 
globe,  1  imagine  that  strolling  photographers  are  not  likely 
to  meet  them  on  the  shores  of  the  St.  Lawrence  any  more. 

Witliin  a  few  years  the  inland  fisheries  of  Canada  have 
become  important.  The  building  of  the  Quebec  cSc  Lake 
St.  John  Railway  opened  up  a  region  full  of  lakes  and 
streams  that  teemed  with  trout.  It  was  known  before, 
but  was  dilficult  of  access.  The  lands  and  waters  belong 
almost  entirely  to  the  Provincial  Government,  which  has 
now  leased  to  individuals  or  clubs  fishing  privileges  on 
nearly  all  that  can  be  reached  without  extreme  diriicultv. 
Of  clubs  there  is  a  considerable  number,  the  majority 
composed  of  Americans.  Some  of  them  control  waters 
within  very  large  areas,  including  20,  50  or  100  lakes, 
many  of  which  the  members  of  the  clubs  never  have  seen 
and  probably  never  will  see.  Of  course  not  all  of  them 
are  good  fishing  waters,  but  enough  are  good  to  afloid  as 
fine  trout  fishing  as  is  known.  The  whole  range  of  the 
Laurentian  hills  is  full  of  lakes  and  streams.  In  almost 
every  stream  are  trout,  sometimes  large  in  proportion  to 
its  size,  but  depending  also  on  various  other  conditions. 
The  best  trout  fishing  in  the  lakes  is  likely  to  be  in  those- 
highest  up  among  the  hills.  Where,  as  very  often  happens, 
there  is  a  succession  or  chain  of  lakes,  it  is  probable  that 
only  one  or  two  will  afford  good  fishing  for  foiitinalis. 
The  others  may  be  more  or  less  stocked  with  "  namaycush  " 


I  .  t\ 


^v.1    W., 


-75^"    -"^ 


ANIMAL   LIFE    AND   FISH. 


27 


ny 
)re 

ly 

cic 
lie 
■ir 

).st 


or  lake  trout  (known  under  various  names  in  ditTerent 
places),  but  they  are  rarely  fished  for  sport.  I  have  not 
heard  of  any  foiitithi/is  beint!:  taken  quite  as  lari^e  as  the 
largest  from  the  Rangeleys  and  some  other  Maine  lakes, 
but  tish  of  three,  four  or  five  pounds  are  not  scarce. 

Those  large  ones  will  seldom  rise  to  the  fly,  except 
during  a  few  days  in  late  May  or  early  June  and  a  few 
days  in  the  autumn.  At  other  times  they  must  be  fished 
for  either  by  trolling  or  with  bait  in  deep  water,  a  kind  of 
fishing  that  the  real  sportsman  is  not  likely  to  care  for  very 
much.  He  will  ordinarily  prefer  a  two-pound  trout  taken 
with  the  tly  to  one  of  five  or  six  pounds  caught  with  bait. 
Nor  even  in  tly  fishing  is  the  quality  of  the  sport  alto- 
gether dependent  on  the  size  of  the  tish,  although  the  fish- 
erman is  naturally  ambitious  to  take  the  largest  that  is  to 
be  had.  A  trout  of  a  pound  and  a-half  weight  in  an  eddy 
of  some  swirling  rapid  will  give  the  sportsman  more  satis- 
faction than  one  of  three  pounds  in  quiet  waters,  or  one  of 
two  pounds  in  a  clear,  cool  lake,  more  than  one  of  five 
pounds  in  richer  waters  where  food  is  plentiful  and  the 
fish  are  "  logy."  Really  the  nicest  trout  for  the  table  are 
those  weighing  about  a  pound  or  a  little  more  or  less. 

The  Q.  &  L.  St.  J.  Ry.  has  also  opened  access  to  the 
haunts  of  the  ouananiche,  considered  by  those  who  know 
it  well  to  be  second  only  to  the  salmon  as  a  game  fish. 
It  is  in  fact  a  sin  Her  salmon  and  ditl'ers  little,  if  at  all, 
from  the  true  salmon  {saliuo  <.alai)  except  in  size,  and  in 
the  fact  that  it  does  not  go  to  the  salt  water.  The  name 
is  Indian  and  the  termination  "  iche  "  means  only  "  little," 
so  that  "  little  salmon  "  is  the  interpretation  of  the  word 
ouananiche.  The  numerous  rivers  flowing  into  Lake  St. 
John  are  well  stocked  with  them,  and  its  outlets,  the 
Grande  and  Petite  Decharges,  which  join  to  make  that 
wonderful  river,  the  Saguenay,  afford  some  of  the  finest 


I     i 


I' 


it 


I') 


, 


I 


§; 


I  i 


28 


ANIMAL  LIFE  AND  FISH. 


fishiii^ij;  on  the  Continent.  These  tish  love  the  wildest 
rapids  and  no  waters  seem  too  swift  or  broken  for  them. 
Their  streni^th  and  ^Miiieness  are  wonderful.  The  novice 
will  in  all  probability  lose  many  tish  and  much  tackle  be- 
fore he  learns  their  ways.  They  were  formerly  thought 
to  be  indigenous  only  to  the  waters  of  Grand  lake,  on  the 
borders  of  Maine  and  New  Brunswick,  and  to  Lake  St. 
John  and  its  tributaries,  but  it  is  now  known  that  some  of 
the  rivers  of  Labrador  are  teeming  with  them. 

The  salmon  fisheries  of  the  streams  flowing  into  the  St. 
Lawrence  are  too  well  known  to  need  special  reference. 
They  are  all  under  lease,  largely  to  Americans.  The 
rentals  range  all  the  way  from  525  to  $6,000  per  annum. 

The  fisheries  of  the  lower  St.  Lawrence  are  varied  and 
valuable.  Those  of  the  upper  St.  Lawrence,  above  Que- 
bec and  below  Montreal,  are  of  small  individual  but  con- 
siderable aggregate  importance  to  the  local  consumers. 
The  tish  are  mostly  taken  in  nets  or  traps.  The  only 
kinds  that  give  the  people  any  amusement  in  the  catch- 
ing are  the  smelt  and  the  "  tommy  cod."  The  former  do 
not  go  much  above  Quebec,  where  they  are  caught  with 
rod  and  bait  as  in  thousands  of  other  places.  But  the 
"  tommy  cod,"  the  petite  moiue  of  the  French  people, 
goes  up  to  the  head  of  tide-water,  some  90  miles  above 
Quebec,  to  spawn  about  Christmas  and  continues  about 
three  weeks ;  not  longer.  They  are  caught  in  different 
ways,  sometimes  with  traps  and  scoop  nets,  but  more  gen- 
erally with  hand  lines  through  holes  cut  in  the  ice,  from  little 
cabins  set  just  along  the  line  of  rocks  that  borders  the 
channel  on  the  north  side.  They  do  not  frequent  the 
south  side  any  more  than  do  the  shad  (of  which  a  few  are 
taken  in  their  season)  cross  to  the  north.  Nor  do  they 
wander  far  onto  the  flats  or  out  into  the  strong  current. 
When  the  tide  runs  strong  they  disappear.     One  may  sit 


"-.: 
i,^1 


ANIMAL    I.IFt-    AND   FISH. 


29 


and  bob  for  hours  without  a  bite,  but  at  about  high  or  low 
water  they  take  iioki  well.  The  iiig;ht  tides  are  best  id 
not  seldom  a  couple  ot"  men  or  boys  may  take  four,  nve 
or  six  hundred  in  a  iiiiilit.  They  usually  are  sold  frozen, 
at  about  lifty  cents  the  bushel.  A  bushel  would  be  prob- 
ably about  250  tish.  They  are  fairly  good  eating  and  go 
far  to  help  the  villagers  through  Lent. 

By  about  the  lifth  of  January  they  first  begin  to  go 
down  the  river  again,  ravenously  hungry,  but  so  thin  and 
poor  as  to  be  almost  uneatable.  The  value  of  the  season's 
catch  at  one  village  not  more  important  than  several  others 
along  the  river,  was  not  long  ago  estimated  at  $2,000. 


M 

! 


.1 


'M 


nfl 


>'  Si 


•f 


j  > 


Ipart  mill 


i: 


OCCUPATIONS 


(: 


1 11^' 


<i 


'    'I 


''" — ^'--- — —  • 


-jaiiMi'trir'      j-m 


1' 


1  !  X 


H' 


1 


It 


if 


'(!*.., 


^4<:? 


IN' 


'< 


OCCUPATIONS 


The  principal  winter  industry  of  tiie  men  in  this  reiiion, 
except  those  who  have  farms  important  enough  to  demand 
their  whole  attention,  and  except  those  occpied  in  ordi- 
nary mechanical  work,  such  as  shoe  makers,  :arriage  mak- 
ers and  the  like,  is  lumberini^.  The  larger  farmers  them- 
selves have  no  small  amount  of  work  to  do  in  the  woods, 
for  the  firewood  for  the  year  in  a  climate  like  that  of 
Canada  is  a  heavy  item,  and  it  is  also  tiiey  who  are 
called  on  to  supply  all  the  material  for  building  and  mis- 
cellaneous purposes,  except  that  produced  by  mill  owners. 
This  is  produced  in  the  larger  mills  in  only  a  limited  num- 
ber of  shapes,  for  the  logs  cut  for  the  purpose  of  com- 
merce are  intended  to  be  made  chietly  into  deals  for  the 
English  market.  The  standard  dimensions  of  a  deal  are  12 
feet  long,  9  inches  wide  and  3  inches  thick.  Other  di- 
mensions are  made  in  order  that  no  timber  may  be  wasted, 
but  the  chief  effort  of  the  saw  mill  owner  is  to  produce 
deals,  either  12  or  14  feet  long.  Only  that  which  cannot 
be  made  into  deals  is  sawn  into  boards,  to  be  sold  in 
American  markets.  1  refer  now  mainly  to  the  region 
referred  to  above.  In  some  other  sections  other  ends  are 
aimed  at,  but  of  those  I  do  not  now  speak. 

The  larger  farmers  being  occupied  with  routine  and 
occasional  business,  the  smaller  ones,  some  unempkned 
mechanics,  and  many  day  laborers,  whose  ordinary  occu- 
pations are  suspended  during  the  winter,  go  int(^  the  woods 
when  the  lumbering  season  comes  round. 

Lumbering  works  are  not  now  generally  conducted  as 


u  m 

M 

'^  M  i 


r 


\\ 


■!    it  fl! 


^11  U: 


34 


OCCUPATIONS. 


IM 


i     ' 


they  were  in  former  times,  and  as  they  are  still  in  other 
parts  of  the  country.  Where  timber  is  plenty,  large  camps, 
accommodating  )0,  40  or  50  men,  are  built ;  but  where  it 
is  scattering  the  logs  are  made  by  jobbers,  who  cut  and 
draw  them  to  the  water's  edge,  at  an  agreed  price  per 
hundred. 

The  jobbers  are  usually  two  or  three  neighbors,  or 
sometimes  a  man  with  one  or  two  sons,  who  work  to- 
gether and  divide  their  earnings.  The  plan  suits  both  em- 
ployer and  employe.  The  former  is  rid  of  a  good  deal  of 
care  and  superintendence  and  the  latter  is  independent  of 
any  foreman.  He  can  work  when  he  pleases,  and  if  it  suits 
him  to  leave  the  woods  and  go  home  he  is  at  liberty  to  do 
so,  and  generally  does.  The  amount  of  time  lost  in  this 
way  is  very  great.  The  jobber  is  pretty  sure  to  go  home 
for  the  holidays  and  he  starts  a  day  or  two  before  Christ- 
mas, so  as  to  be  sure.  New  Years  Day  is  a  more  import- 
ant fete  even  than  Christmas,  and  the  Jour  des  %ois 
(Epiphany)  comes  so  soon  after  that  he  thinks  it  not 
worth  while  to  go  back  until  it  is  over.  Then  it  takes 
him  one  or  two  days  more  to  get  ready,  so  that  very  often 
he  will  use  up  three  full  weeks  out  of  the  best  of  the  sea- 
son. He  has  promised  to  make  a  certain  number  of  logs 
during  the  winter  and  perhaps  will  do  it,  but  if  he  does  not 
he  is  not  likely  to  be  sued  for  damages,  and  is  not  much 
concerned.  He  can  make  the  logs  cheaper  than  the  em- 
ployer could  do  it  by  hiring  men,  for  he  can  support  him- 
self alone  for  less  than  it  would  cost  to  feed  him  in  a  large 
camp.  He  would  grumble  fearfully  if  he  were  fed  no 
better  than  he  feeds  himself. 

For  a  large  number  of  men  the  employer  would  be 
obliged  to  build  a  camp  with  separate  stables  for  the 
horses,  which  might  cost  him  two  or  three  hundred  dollars, 
whereas  the  jobbers  can  put  up  a  camp  in  a  couple  of  days 


I 


ill 


OCCUPATIONS. 


35 


Loggers'  Camp. 


that  will  accommodate  both  them  and  their  horses  as 
well.  They  all  live  together,  perhaps  with  a  dog  and  a 
variety  of  insects. 
A  jobber's  camp  is 
not  always  a  pleas- 
ant place  to  sleep  in 
for  the  stranger 
whose  prejudices 
are  in  favor  of  clean- 
liness. The  fare  is 
simple  and  cheap, 
consisting  mainly  of 
bread,  pork  and  pea 
soup.  The  soup  ket- 
tle is  always  on  the 
fire,  never  exhausted — and  never  washed.  Pork,  peas  and 
water  are  put  into  it  as  required,  and  the  soup  goes  on 
continuously  until  the  winter's  work  is  done.  Once  in  a 
while  a  man  will  have  a  pot  of  tea,  and  if  the  jobber  is  a 
farmer  he  may  perhaps  bring  some  potatoes  to  the  camp, 
but  such  luxuries  are  not  usual. 

The  men  get  out  to  their  work  early  and  work  as  long 
as  they  can  see,  but  in  the  short  winter  days  this  is  not 
too  long,  and  the  work  does  not  usually  demand  long  con- 
tinued strenuous  exertions,  so  the  men  are  likely  to  come 
out  of  the  woods  in  the  spring  fat  and  hearty,  while  the 
poor  horses  look  thin  and  discouraged,  it  is  the  horses 
who  have  the  hardest  time,  for  although  the  main  road 
from  where  the  logs  are  made  is  usually  kept  in  excellent 
order,  and  almost  always  either  level  or  down-hill,  yet  all 
that  is  done  for  the  numerous  branch  roads  is  to  make  it 
possible  to  get  over  them.  If  a  horse  can  go  he  must  go, 
and  that  is  all  there  is  about  it.  To  reach  the  logs  he  may 
have  to  flounder  through  snow  nearly  to  his  belly,  up  hills 


f 


1: 


(i 


36 


OCCUPATIONS. 


i  1 1 


and  over  rocks,  but  the  logs  must  come  out  and  he  must  get 
to  them,  though  it  strains  every  muscle.  And  if  it  is  hard 
to  get  up  the  hills  with  the  empty  log-sled  it  is  not  easier 
to  get  down  with  a  load,  for  the  way  is  steep  and  crooked 
in  places,  and  he  sometimes  has  to  hold  back  hard,  and 
gets  sadly  knocked  about.  A  very  simple  and  admirably 
efTective  way  of  arranging  the  shafts  of  the  sled,  however, 
reduces  his  trials  immensely  and  he  soon  learns  how  to 
handle  himself. 


I'M 


■'■>'■■: 


Wi'h^ 


:-V5.-^^ 


L()i;j;ei's'  Sled. 

The  drawing  of  logs  in  this  country  is  all  done  by  single 
horses  and  the  powerful  ox  teams  used  in  other  regions 
are  never  seen  here.  A  habitant  jobber  may  occasionally 
have  an  ox,  but  he  is  always  harnessed  like  a  horse  and 
driven  with  reins.  The  oxen  are  so  small  and  slow  that 
it  seems  impossible  for  them  to  accomplish  much,  but  it 
costs  less  to  keep  them,  they  are  less  liable  to  accidents 
and  diseases  than  horses,  and  if  anything  happens  to  them 
they  may  be  killed  and  eaten,  which  is  no  small  consider- 
ation to  the  poor  habitant. 

The  net  earnings  of  the  jobber  probably  amount  to  less 


OCCUPATIONS. 


37 


t;et 
arJ 
ier 
:ed 
mJ 
>\y 
er, 
to 


I 


than  he  might  have  had  in  a  large  camp,  where  he  would 
be  hired  by  the  month,  fed,  and  furnished  with  tools,  etc., 
but  he  has  the  satisfaction  of  not  working  so  hard  and  of 
being,  in  the  main,  his  own  master.  He  can  always  make 
use  of  his  horses,  and  of  his  boys  if  he  has  any  of  suitable 
age,  to  drive  them. 

The  wanderer  in  the  woods  will  often  hear  the  loud 
shout  of  "viens  doin,"  '' ma  re  he  done"  or  '\iyrcte 
done,"  with  the  last  syllable  long  drawn  out,  as  the  first 
evidence  that  he  is  near  a  lumberman's  road.  A  Canadian 
in  the  woods  could  not  drive  without  yelling  at  "the  top  of 
his  voice ;  but  the  horse  soon  learns  to  pay  very  little  at- 
tention to  the  cries. 

I  have  been  very  much  amused  on  some  of  my  jour- 
neys at  a  certain  old  veteran  beast  of  the  shanties  wliicii, 
when  the  ground  is  bare,  draws  my  luggage  over  a  cer- 
tain piece  of  wood  on  a  sled  with  wooden  runners.  The 
load  is  never  heavy,  but  there  are  many  mud- holes  and 
rocky  places.  When  the  road  suits  the  old  horse  he  will 
go  in  it,  but  when  he  tinds  what  seems  to  him  a  better 
place  to  pass  he  will  take  to  that,  and  not  all  the  ear- 
splitting  yells  of  his  driver,  who  is  generally  walking  along 
some  distance  in  the  rear,  can  stop  him.  He  will  drag 
his  load  over  rocks  or  fallen  trees  at  any  conceivable 
angle,  but  if  it  actually  upsets,  or  the  sled  strikes  against 
a  root  or  a  stump,  he  wastes  no  strength  in  useless  exer- 
tions but  quietly  stops  and  crops  the  twigs  within  his  reach 
until  his  driver  comes  up.  Then  when  a  lift  or  a  push 
releases  him,  he  responds  to  a  mildly  spoken  ";'-/-o-c  " 
and  goes  on.  Cries  of  "  aniie  done,"  with  a  dozen  dif- 
ferent inflections,  in  a  voice  that  could  easily  be  heard 
half  a  mile,  make  no  impression  on  him,  but  the  quiet 
order  is  obeyed. 

The  boys  get  into  the  woods  at  an  early  age.     Where 


'^1 


'J  'I 


'(   r/ 


i'.; 


t  lit 


n 


If!  ■' 


ll' 


I    1  ■    1  '1 


u 


I        / 


i;  I 


!  '. 


38 


OCCUPATIONS. 


the  hauling  is  not  difficult,  a  boy  of  fourteen  or  fifteen 
years  can  be  made  very  useful.  The  jobber's  work  is  fin- 
ished when  he  gets  the  logs  to  the  water's  edge.  He  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  "  drive,"  though  he  may  be  em- 
ployed on  it,  but  that  is  altogether  another  story. 

Driving  logs  has  been  described  scores  of  times.  The 
work  is  often  exciting,  sometimes  dangerous,  and  always 
attended  with  hardships,  it  must  be  carried  on  in  all 
weathers,  sleep  and  food  must  be  taken  when  they  can  be 
had,  and  wet  clothing  is  the  rule.  Only  the  young  and 
vigorous  are  fit  for  it. 

The  writer  recently  had  an  opportunity  to  witness  part 
of  a  drive,  that  while  on  a  very  small  scale,  showed  thor- 
oughly characteristic  features. 

My  duties  required  me  to  go  into  the  woods  and  among 
the  loggers'  camps.  Tired  of  sharing  the  scanty  quarters 
of  the  jobbers,  where  sometimes  a  bench,  a  table  or  a  pile 
of  wood  was  the  only  available  bed,  or  even  of  claiming 
the  hospitality  of  the  larger  camps,  I  had  built  for  myself 
a  comfortable  cabin  at  a  convenient  point  for  all  my  jour- 
neys, and  on  the  border  of  one  of  the  most  charming  of 
all  Canadian  lakes.  Not  that  1  was  ever  unkindly  received 
in  the  camps,  and  many  a  time  has  a  jobber  slept  on  the 
tloor  or  a  foreman  shared  the  bunks  of  his  men  in  order 
to  give  me  the  best  accommodation  possible. 

The  outlet  of  this  lake  falls  something  over  four  hun- 
dred feet  in  half  a  mile,  and  is  wild,  rocky  and  picturesque, 
as  may  well  be  imagined. 

Much  money  and  labor  and  a  dam  at  the  head  of  the 
discharge  had  made  it  available  for  driving  logs,  of  which 
about  7,000  were  ready  at  this  time  to  be  sent  down.  As 
they  were  lying  quietly  in  the  lake,  1  remarked  to  the 
friend  with  me  how  nice  and  clean  and  handsome  they 
looked,  to  which  my  woodranger,  who  was  with  us,  ans- 


OCCUPATIONS. 


39 


'11 


IS 


wered,  "  Il-y-en  a  qui  vont  se  cogiier  la  tete  bien  vite." 
It  was  only  saying  that  some  of  them  were  going  to  get 
their  heads  bumped  very  soon,  but  somehow  the  expres- 
sion seemed  to  sound  much  more  picturesque  in  French 
than  in  English. 

The  dam  was  opened  and  we  ran  along  the  bank, 
watching  the  logs  go  down.  They  were  tossed  from  one 
side  of  the  stream  to  the  other,  knocking  against  rocks, 
rolled  over  a  thousand  times,  and  once  in  a  while  turned 
quite  end  over  end.  The  thundering  of  their  striking  the 
rocks  and  of  the  rushing  water  was  so  great  that  we  could 
hardly  hear  each  other's  voices.  In  ten  minutes  from  the 
time  we  had  seen  them  lying  peaceably  at  the  outlet  of  the 
lake  some  of  them  began  to  collect  in  a  pool  below,  their 
ends  all  battered  and  splintered,  the  bark  rubbed  oti"  or 
torn  and  hanging  in  long  strips. 

A  "  jam "  occurred  just  when  we  were  in  a  capital 
position  to  see  it  and  we  looked  on  and  applauded  the 
skill  and  daring  with  which  the  men  broke  it  up.  When 
the  one  log  that  formed  the  key  to  the  whole  was  removed 
and  the  great  pile  melted  away  as  it  were  in  a  few  seconds, 
we  could  not  resist  the  inclination  to  shake  the  hand  of 
the  foreman  of  the  gang  of  drivers  and  congratulate  him 
on  a  ditiicult  and  dangerous  work  well  done.  We  liked 
him  for  the  care  he  took  that  if  a  man  was  compelled  to 
go  to  a  place  of  special  danger,  every  precaution  should 
be  taken  for  his  escape  or  rescue. 

The  lake  of  which  1  have  spoken  is  separated  by  a  strip 
of  land  about  150  yards  wide  from  another  lake  which 
lies  some  250  feet  below  it.  Before  it  was  found  possible 
to  make  the  outlet  of  our  lake  available  for  driving  logs  it 
was  customary  to  send  the  logs  made  around  that  lake 
into  the  other  by  means  of  a  "  slide,"  which  was  simply 
two  parallel  lines  of  timber  laid  not  quite  so  far  apart  as 


« 


'! 


1^ 


40 


OCCUPATIONS. 


the  diameter  of  a  \o^.  Tlie  logs  were  sent  down  endwise, 
and  of  course  tiie  velocity  was  tremendous,  the  slide  being 
laid  at  an  angle  of  about  35'^.  The  story  is  that  although 
the  water  at  the  foot  of  the  slide  was  over  200  feet  deep 
the  logs  falling  into  it  went  quite  to  the  bottom  and  came 
up  bringing  sand  and  pebbles  with  them.  Also,  that  if  a 
log  going  down  struck  on  another  log  already  in  the  water 
it  would  break  it  sharp  in  two. 

This  was  mainly  correct  enough  except  as  to  the  depth 
of  water,  which  can  hardly  be  more  than  50  or  60  feet  at 
that  point.  Also,  one  log  dropping  from  such  a  height  on- 
to another  would  almost  certainly  splinter  it,  but  it  would 
require  a  most  extraordinary  concatenation  of  circum- 
stances to  break  one  quite  in  two.  But  the  best  part  of 
the  story  was  that  if  a  small  log  coming  down  endwise 
struck  quite  squarely  on  a  large  one  floating  below  it 
would  go  through  it  clean  "  just  like  a  cannon  ball." 

The  cliff  down  which  the  slide  was  laid  extends  for 
about  three  miles  on  one  side  of  a  river  and  lake  and  is 
considered  by  many  to  be  tiner  than  the  palisades  of  the 
Hudson.  Its  average  height  is  not  far  from  250  feet,  and 
except  in  two  or  three  places  where  there  are  breaks  it  is 
almost  or  quite  perpendicular.  The  opposite  bank,  only 
200  or  300  yards  away,  is  low  and  rises  only  gently  for  a 
long  distance  back.  It  must  have  been  a  wonderful  con- 
vulsion of  nature  that  resulted  in  such  a  formation. 

Looking  up  at  the  clitT  from  below  one  is  surprised  to 
see  how  little  soil  is  necessary  to  the  growth  of  a  tree. 
From  very  trifling  crevices  in  the  rock,  where  only  a  mere 
handful  of  earth  could  be  lodged,  we  find  trees  and  large 
bushes  springing.  Their  roots  find  a  way  into  the  cracks 
somehow  and  hold  on  most  wonderfully.  I  know  espe- 
cially of  one  considerable  cedar  that  appears  to  have 
crawled  out  of  a  hole  where  there  is  no  sign  of  earth. 


I  i'l; 


W 

I. 

!  I 
VV 


iM 


3cn^-rr 


OCCUPATIONS. 


41 


) 


t 


Indeed,  it  is  wonderful  tliat  the  masses  of  stone  that  com- 
pose these  Laurentian  hills  can  support  such  a  dense  forest 
as  they  do.  There  is  scarcely  any  earth  at  all  visible; 
nothing  but  rocks  covered  with  decayed  leaves  and  rotten 
wood.  It  will  all  burn  like  tinder  when  once  the  tire  gets 
into  it.  That  is  why  the  forest  fires  are  so  terribly  de- 
structive in  this  country.  1  once  left  a  camp  fire  not 
thoroughly  extinguished,  and  when  1  came  back  to  the 
place  after  two  or  three  days  smoke  and  steam  were  coming 
out  of  the  ground  several  feet  away  in  every  direction,  and 
a  great  rocky  cavity  was  where  my  fire  had  been.  Rain 
had  moistened  the  surface  and  extinguished  any  blaze,  but 
the  fire  was  working  underneath  and  might  have  broken 
out  again  after  days  or  even  weeks,  devastating  many 
miles  of  timber  land.  Very  many  fires  are  caused  in  this 
way,  through  the  carelessness  of  hunters  and  tishermen. 
1  have  not  been  blameworthy  in  that  respect  since  that 
time. 

Lumber  merchants  claim  that  many  times  more  timber 
is  destroyed  by  fire  than  by  the  axe.  We  are  constantly 
meeting  with  the  evidences  of  fires,  some  recent  and  some 
of  many  years  ago.  A  friend  once  told  me  that  away  up 
beyond  Lake  St.  John  he  had  found  what  he  thought 
were  signs  of  three  distinct  fires  that  had  passed  over  the 
same  land  at  long  intervals.  The  fires  may  have  been 
caused  by  savages,  who  once  roamed  in  those  dreary  and 
inhospitable  regions  in  large  numbers,  though  my  friend 
thought  not. 


H 


4» 


Ipavt  11 U 

AMUSEMENTS 
CONTES  AND  RACONTEURS 


* 


m 
Vi 


I 


M: 


!i 


AMUSEMENTS    CONTES  AND 
RACONTEURS 


, 


For  amiisenient  in  winter  tliere  is  endless  visiting  of 
course,  witli  diatter  accorilingly.  Tliree  or  four  Canadian 
women  togetlier  can  l<eep  up  a  clatter  tliat  would  put  a 
shopful  of  sewinii  machines  to  tlie  blush.  Since  social 
dancinij'  has  i'^een  disapproved  the  principal  amusements 
are  talking,  singing  and  card  playing.  Sometimes  when 
a  lot  of  young  people  get  together  simple  games  are  in- 
dulged in.  "  Kissing  games  "  are  of  course  tabooed  ;  but 
other  games  involving  forfeits,  such  as  are  known  almost 
everywhere  under  various  names,  are  played.  These  may 
be  boisterous  but  are  almost  never  rude. 

Athletic  sports  are  almost  unknown  in  the  country 
parishes.  The  young  men  seem  to  think  they  can  get  all 
the  exercise  they  need  in  their  ordinary  occupations. 
Such  games  as  foot  ball,  base  ball,  cricket,  hockey,  la- 
crosse, tennis  and  the  like  are  never  jecn,  and  even  skating 
and  sliding  are  almost  entirely  confined  to  the  small  boys. 

For  amusement  for  the  men  in  the  woods  there  is  not 
much.  In  jobbers'  camps  there  is  almost  none  at  all  ex- 
cept when  some  stranger  or  visitor  happens  to  come  in. 
The  jobbers  get  their  suppers,  smoke  their  pipes  and  go 
to  bed.  They  are  up  again  at  four  or  half  past  four  in 
the  morning  to  feed  their  horses,  breakfast,  and  be  at 
their  work  as  soon  as  it  is  light  enough  to  see. 

In  the  large  camps  where  many  men  are  together  some 
of  them  will  want  to  do  something  to  pass  away  the  time. 


'    ^ 


'■V 


I.  I 


46 


AMIISHMEMS— CONTi:S   AND   KACONTF.IIRS. 


* ;  ■ . 


A  few  will  play  cards,  some  may  play  drain^hts,  and  there 
will  surely  be  some  who  siiiii'.  Very  likely  there  will  be 
a  tiddler  in  the  party  and  some  may  dance  jii^s.  These 
amusements,  however,  are  mostly  kept  for  Sunday  after- 
noons and  evenings.  Sunday  mornin^.js  are  devoted  to 
loatini;  and  chat.  Perhaps  the  foreman  may  wash  and 
shave,  but  the  men  do  not  often  give  themselves  that 
trouble. 

When  the  usual  hour  for  church  service  arrives  all  will 
be  quiet;  and  during  the  time  that  the  mass  is  beinij  cele- 
brated in  the  churches  the  men  will  kneel  and  repeat  their 
prayers.  Sometimes  there  will  be  a  leader  and  the  others 
will  only  give  responses,  and  sometimes  each  will  say  his 
prayers  for  himself.  Some  will  get  through  a  little  sooner 
than  the  others,  but  until  the  last  man  is  done  there  is  no 
disturbance.  For  the  rest  of  the  day  the  men  are  at  lib- 
erty to  amuse  themselves  as  they  like.  As  a  fact  they  do 
little  except  sleep  or  vo  hunting  or  tishing,  and  only  a  few 
have  guns  or  lines.  They  must  also  get  their  own  suppers 
for  Sunday  afternoon  is  the  cook's  holiday  and  he  is  not 
obliged  to  cook  for  them. 

After  supper  is  the  time  for  general  amusements,  sing- 
ing, dancing,  cartl  playing,  or  whatever  is  allowable.  But 
the  greatest  entertainer  of  all  is  the  "  raroiife'iir"  or  story- 
teller. 

I  should  never  be  able  to  tell  of  confes  and  nicnn/t'iii  s 
without  referring  at  once  to  our  faithful  ranger  Na/aire, 
as  we  call  him,  in  his  early  and  middle  life  a  prince  among 
story-tellers.  And  if  1  i\'i;iii  to  speak  ol  him  I  shall  be 
liable  to  bring  in  also  my  own  experience  with  him,  for 
we  have  been  in  the  woods  together  for  many  a  year, 
through  sunshine  and  storm,  pleasure  and  hardship.  As 
much  the  entertaining  companion  and  devoted  friend  as 
the  honored  and  trusted  employe,  he  has  been  my  guide 
and  associate  in  numberless  wanderings. 


i  <••  - 


#■* 


Nazaire 


I 


; 


r 


I 


'Wi 


li'l 


( 


III 


\  ■  I 


; ,'  'I 


if 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES   AND   RACONTEURS. 


47 


1 


Having  him  witli  me  I  was  sure  of  a  welcome  in  any 
camp,  for  if  the  men  cared  nothing  for  me  they  all  knew 
and  liked  Nazaire  and  were  sure  of  an  evening's  enter- 
tainment. Many  a  coiite  have  1  heard  from  him  that  1 
sincerely  wish  I  could  write  down.  I  remember  distinctly 
only  two,  and  one  of  those  I  have  never  been  able  to 
translate  in  such  a  manner  as  to  give  any  idea  whatever 
of  the  spirit  of  the  story.  I  shall  give  it  in  French  and 
whoever  likes  to  try  his  hand  at  it  is  welcome  to  do  so. 

Nazaire's  soirees  in  camp  usually  began  with  about  half 
an  hour's  talk  about  woods,  logs,  the  depth  of  the  snow, 
what  this  man,  that,  and  the  other  was  doing,  and  similar 
matters  of  general  interest.  Then  someone  who  knew 
how  to  lead  the  good  man  on  would  probably  tell  some 
improbable  or  impossible  story.  Nazaire  had  one  to  give 
back  at  the  shortest  notice.  I  remember  one  occasion 
(which  will  serve  as  a  sample  of  many  others)  when  he 
told  the  following  along  with  many  other  similar  stories, 
but  I  cannot  hope  or  attempt  to  give  any  idea  of  the  spirit 
and  vaiiety  of  his  narration  : 

There  was  once  a  very  faiiinus  hunter  named  Dalbee,  wlm  lived'in 
tlie  villaj,'e  of  Ste.  Anne.  He  liad  been  luintins;  all  day  and  was  re- 
tiirninij  home  when  he  cune  to  a  Httie  round  lake,  on  tiie  opposite 
side  of  which  he  saw  a  fo.x.  Just  as  he  raised  his  i;un  to  tire  six 
ducks  came  .sailing  frtmi  under  the  bushes  nearer  to  iiim.  He  hesi- 
tated at  which  tn  shout,  and  decided  tn  try  his  chances  at  both. 
Placinj;,^  the  b.irrel  of  his  loni;' t;un  between  two  trees,  he  bent  it  into 
a  quarter  of  a  circle,  tired  at  the  ducks,  killed  them  all,  killed  the  fox 
also,  and  the  bullet  came  back  and  broke  the  ieu'  of  his  doj:  that  was 
standins;'  by  him. 

Someone  else  then  told  a  story  of  seeing  from  a  barn 
window  two  bears  standing  on  their  hind  legs  and  wrest- 
ling like  two  men.  This  anecdote  he  declared  was  abso- 
lutely true. 

This  reminded  Nazaire  of  another  story  about  Dalbec  : 


Tiitr 
V 


I  f 


i  > 


48 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES    AND   RACONTEURS. 


i 


'  it 


D:ilbec  \v:is  in  tlie  woods  makinir  maple  siit;ar,  wlien  lie  saw  a  bear 
C'uniiit,^  iciuiid  as  if  bent  on  mischief.  Havini,''  ii(ii;un  Dalbec  crawled 
under  an  empty  hni^sliead  (such  as  are  often  used  to  lioid  the  sap  as 
il  is  collected).  Tiie  bear  came  smellini;'  up,  trying  to  find  a  way  to 
%t\.  in.  At  the  right  moment  Dalbec  reached  his  hand  throuirh  the 
bum,^-ho!e  and  sei/ed  him  by  the  tail.  The  bear  started  ulldn  a 
run  diiwn  tiie  hill,  dra,ui;im;'  the  hii,i,^shead  after  him  with  Dalbec  in- 
side of  it.  They  came  to  a  Inf  of  fallen  limber,  where  the  hoi;shead 
stuck,  but  Dalbec  held  on  till  the  tail  came  out  and  the  bear  escaped. 

The  fact  that  the  bear  has  no  tail  of  which  a  person 
could  take  iiold  does  not  atfect  the  truth  of  this  story. 

What  on  this  special  occasion  interested  me  more  than 
the  stories  themselves,  was  Nazaire's  account  of  how  Dal- 
bec, who  was  a  real  personage  and  a  great  hunter,  and  an- 
other iuinter,  equally  celebrated  and  his  special  rival, 
would  get  a  crowd  of  people  about  them  on  Sundays 
after  vespers  were  over  and  tell  their  wonderful  yarns 
with  perfect  sobriety,  neither  of  them  questioning  a  word 
of  anything  that  the  other  might  say,  but  occasionally 
putting  in  a  word  of  assent,  such  as  "  c'etait  bieu  fait" 
(that  was  well  done)  or  "  c'cst  bien  vmi"  (that  is  quite 
true),  and  then  going  on  to  tell  something  still  more  sur- 
prising himself. 

Such  a  picture  can  readily  be  imagined  by  those  famil- 
iar with  the  scenes  about  the  church  doors  on  a  pleasant 
Sunday  after  the  services  of  the  day  are  finished.  The 
rest  of  the  day  is  given  up  .d  social  entertainments  of  a 
quiet  character  and  to  moderate  recreations — music,  card- 
playing',  and  the  like, 

Dancing  on  Sundays  was  never  allowed  in  Canada,  nor 
are  loud  and  boisterous  assemblies  permitted.  Political 
meetings,  however,  are  usually  held  on  Sundays.  Trot- 
ting horses  is  not  particularly  objected  to,  nor  is  driving- 
about  on  any  business  errand  ;  but  all  labor  is  generally 
suspended  quite  as  much  as  in  any  New  England  village. 


• 


.J        ! 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTF.S   AND   RACONTRURS. 


49 


I  was  very  much  amused  not  very  loni;  at;o  when  I  was 
speaking  of  this  story  of  Dall  ec  to  some  people  at  a 
phice  where  we  were  calling.  One  of  the  women  about 
the  house  overheard  it  and  remarked,  "  That  story  about 
Dalbec  is  not  true.  I  knew  those  Dallvcs  and  1  should 
have  heard  of  it."  She  thought  the  stories  had  been  told 
as  facts. 

On  the  occasion  1  have  mentioned  nur  surveyor  was  not 
to  be  outdone  by  any  story-teller,  and  tnld  with  a  solem- 
nity worthy  of  Dalbec  himself  an  incident  that  he  said 
happened  to  himself : 

He  was  walking  in  the  woods,  he  said,  on  a  narrow 
path,  when  he  met  a  bear  face  to  face.  Every  one  knows 
how  quickly  a  bear  can  turn  around.  The  bear  rose  on 
his  hind  feet  just  at  the  instant  the  surveyor  tired  at  him, 
and  so  quickly  did  he  turn  that  the  course  of  the  ball  go- 
ing through  his  body  was  changed  and  it  came  out  and 
struck  the  surveyor  on  the  shin. 

Then  came  anotiier  story  about  Dalbec  : 

He  luki  been  ploughini^  one  d;iy  and  al  iiiniil  just  as  he  was  !;"i"S 
ti)  pill  ills  hni'se  ill  tile  barn  lie  iieaiu  a  \\ock  ol  wild  tjeese  in  liie  air 
uver  liis  liead.  He  went  inlu  tlie  liouse  and  i^ut  liis  ijiin,  but  it  was 
so  dartc  lie  could  see  luitliiiiij:.  Still  liearini;  the  imise  he  tired  in  the 
direction  from  which  it  came.  As  nu  birds  fell  he  concluded  he  had 
missed  them,  so  he  went  into  the  house,  ate  his  supper  and  went  to 
bed.  Ill  the  niorninu  he  was  i;i)ini;  for  his  horse  ai;ain  when  just  as 
he  was  stepping  out  of  doors  a  i^oose  fell  at  his  feet.  It  was  one  of 
those  he  had  shot  at  and  it  had  been  so  liii^li  up  it  had  been  all  night 
in  falling. 

And  still  another : 

It  was  the  morning'  of  the  "  Toiissaint  "  (All  Saints'  Day)  that  Dal- 
bec had  gone  out  early,  shooting.  He  had  e.xpended  all  his  ammu- 
nition and  was  returning  home  when  he  saw  a  tlock  of  wild  ducks 
swimming  about  among  the  timbers  of  a  rait  that  had  gone  ashore 
at  the  mouth  of  the  river.  Thi.'  water  was  cold,  but  Dalbec  went 
into  ii  up  to  his  neck  and  waded  round  until  he  could  reach  under 


kll 


4 


'I' 


'  'i: 


io 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES   AND   RACONTEURS. 


the  loy;s  and  get  liold  ot  the  lei^s  of  a  duck.  Wlien  he  caught  one  he 
pulled  it  quickly  under  the  water  and  fastened  it  to  his  belt.  In  this 
way  he  secured  about  a  dozen.  All  of  a  sudden  he  felt  a  commo- 
tion, and  before  he  knew  what  was  happening  he  found  himself 
raised  into  the  air  and  carried  otF.  A  strong  northeasterly  gale  was 
blowing  and  away  lie  went  up  the  St.  Lawrence.  Just  as  he  passed 
the  church  at  St.  Anne  he  heard  the  first  bell  of  the  mass  sound,  and 
he  wisiied  he  had  stayed  at  home  instead  of  going  shooting.  At  the 
rate  at  which  he  was  going  he  had  not  mucii  time  to  tiiink;  but 
presently  he  realized  that  something  had  got  to  be  done.  He  reached 
down  and  twisted  the  neck  of  one  of  the  ducks.  That  let  him  down 
a  little  and  he  twisted  another.  So  he  kept  on  until,  when  he  had 
done  with  them  all,  he  found  himself  dropped  on  the  grtjund  in 
front  of  the  cliurch  at  Snrel,  and  heard  tiie  second  bell  of  the  mass. 
He  had  been  carried  seventy-live  miles  up  the  river  in  just  half  an 
hour. 

After  a  round  of  stories  like  these  tliere  would  be  a  call 
for  a  "  coiite,"  started  by  one  and  echoed  by  all  the  rest. 
The  men  wotild  gather  round,  forming'  groups  that  I  have 
many  times  vainly  wished  and  quite  as  vainly  tried  to 
sketch,  and  after  a  proper  show  of  reluctance  and  the  cor- 
responding amount  of  persuasion,  Nazaire  would  begin 
with  the  "  Tiens-bon-ld,"  following  it  up  with  "  L'histoire 
de  mon  petit  d^funt frere  Loui{on." 

A  good  story-teller  like  Nazaire  is  always  a  welcome 
visitor  at  a  lumberman's  camp.  As  few  of  the  men  can 
read  they  are  glad  of  someone  who  can  entertain  them. 
They  talk  incessantly,  but  the  range  of  conversation  is 
limited,  and  they  no  doubt  get  tired  of  hearing  each 
other's  personal  achievements  and  adventin-es,  which  are 
their  principal  subjects. 

1  have  heard  a  good  raconteur  go  on  two  hours  with 
one  of  his  stories,  and  there  are  some  stories  that  occupy 
two  evenings  in  the  telling.  They  are  mostly  fairy  stories 
in  which  there  is  almost  always  a  '' jeune  prince''  and  a 
"jeune  princesse."    Where  they  come  from  in  general 


, 


i 


i  iil^ 


f^', 


'HKi 


52 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES   AND   RACONTEURS, 


I  ' 


II  ! 


I  do  not  know,  but  a  few  are  from  the  "Thousand  and 
One  Nijjhts."  A  great  many  probably  have  never  been 
printed,  but  handed  down  in  traditions.  Some,  such  as 
the  flight  of  Dalbec,  seem  like  localized  versions  of  old, 
widely  distributed  tales. 

I  will  try  to  give  from  my  recollection  a  rude  transla- 
tion of  "  The  Tiens-bon-la  "  as  a  specimen  : 

There  was  once  a  cure'  who  was  in  love  with  a  baker's  wife.  He 
tried  in  various  ways  to  jjet  rid  of  tiie  baker,  but  without  success. 

Tiiey  lived  in  the  capita!  of  tlie  kingdom,  where  the  king  resided. 
Now  in  front  of  the  kind's  palace  was  a  xreat  lake  of  more  than 
twelve  thousand  acres.  CJne  morninjj  the  cure  went  to  the  palace 
and  knocked  at  the  door.  Wiien  the  kinij  came  out  he  said  to  liim, 
"  Sire,  mon  Roi,  tiiere  is  a  man  in  the  city  who  boasts  that  in  less 
than  twice  twenty-four  hours  lie  can  chani^e  this  lake  into  a  beautiful 
meadow,  covered  witii  i,Mass  that  would  _i;ive  iiay  enout;!)  f(jr  all  your 
majesty's  horses,  and  would  be  for  the  .^reat  advantage  of  the 
crown."  Then  the  king  said  "  Who  is  this  man.'"  The  cure  ans- 
wered, "  He  is  no  less  than  the  baker  who  furnishes  your  majesty 
with  bread,"  so  the  king  said  "  I  will  send  for  him." 

The  cure  went  away  and  the  king  sent  a  letter  to  the  baker  saying 
that  he  wanted  to  see  him.  The  baker  thought  he  was  to  get  his 
pay  for  the  bread  he  iiad  provided  for  the  king  and  all  his  servants 
and  soldiers.  So  he  was  very  glad  and  went  i-iuickly  to  the  palace 
and  knocked  at  the  door.  When  the  king  came  out  he  asked  what 
was  wanted  of  him.  The  king  answered  th;i'  he  iiad  lieard  that  he 
had  boasted  that  in  less  than  twice  twenty-tour  hours  he  could 
change  all  that  lake  into  a  beautiful  meado..,  •  vt-red  with  grass  and 
clover  that  would  feed  all  the  king's  horses,  and  would  be  a  great 
advantage  to  the  crown.  Now,  unless  withm  twice  twenty-t\iur 
hours  the  lake  was  changed  into  a  meadow  the  baker  should  be  hung 
before  the  door  of  the  palace. 

Then  the  king  turned  away  and  the  baker  went  out  discouraged^ 
for  he  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He  walked  otf  into  the  woods 
and  sat  down  on  a  log  to  weep.  After  a  long  time  an  old  woman 
came  and  asked  what  was  the  matter.  He  said  he  was  very  miser- 
able for  he  was  going  to  be  hanged  in  twice  twenty-four  hours.  The 
king  had  commanded  him  to  change  all  that  lake  into  a  meadow, 
covered  with  grass  and  clover,  and  he  was  not  able  to  do  it.    Now 


^ 


N 


i 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES   AND   RACONTEURS. 


S3 


this  old  woman  was  a  fairy  {II-v-aiaH  dcs  l-lvs  daus  cc  Unif-'s  lii)  and 
wlieii  he  iiad  done  spealciiiK'  siie  told  him  not  tube  troubled  but  ti>  j^o 
to  sleep.  Sit  he  went  Id  sleep,  and  wiien  he  had  slept  an  hdiir  he  was 
awakened  I'^y  the  smell  ot  hay,  and  when  he  looked  abmit  him  he 
saw  that  the  lake  was  all  \!;(nM  and  that  there  was  only  a  river  that 
ran  throiiijh  the  middle  of  a  beautiful  meadow.  Then  the  fairy  told 
him  to  j;o  to  the  kini;  and  show  him  what  he  had  done.  He  went  to 
the  palace  and  when  he  came  near  he  saw  the  kini;'  lookinji;  out  of 
the  window  at  the  meadow,  and  all  the  men  and  horses  at  work 
makin,i,f  hay.  He  knocked  at  the  door,  and  when  the  kinji  came 
down  stairs  he  asked  him  if  he  was  satislied.  The  kinu  said  he  was 
not  satislied,  because  the  river  had  been  left  runnini;  throuijh  the 
middle  of  the  meadow.  The  baker  told  the  kini;  that  the  river  had 
been  left  for  the  convenience  of  the  animals  and  to  help  in  makinjj 
hay,  because  there  was  so  much  of  it  that  all  the  horses  in  the  kinj;- 
dom  could  not  draw  it,  and  it  would  have  to  be  brought  in  boats. 
Then  the  kinji  was  satislied,  and  sent  the  liaker  away. 

Soon  the  cure  came  a,i;ain  and  the  kini;  showed  him  the  meadow 
and  the  men  and  women  and  horses  makini:  hay.  The  cure  was 
much  surprised  to  see  all  this,  but  he  did  not  say  so,  and  went  on  to 
tell  the  king  that  he  had  no  doubt  the  baker  could  do  a  great  deal 
more  than  that,  for  he  had  boasted  that  he  could  make  a  "  tiens-bon- 
i^ ''  for  the  king  that  would  be  worth  a  great  deal  more  than  the 
meadow  and  would  be  a  great  advantage  Lo  the  crtiwn.  "  What  is  a 
'  tiens-bon-l:\  .""  asked  the  king.  "I  do  not  know,"  answered  the 
priest ;  •'  but  the  baker  said  he  could  make  one."  "  1  will  send  for 
him,"  said  the  king.  So  he  wrote  to  the  baker,  who  was  just  mak- 
ing his  bread.  When  he  had  put  it  into  the  oven  he  went  to  the 
palace  and  knocked  again  and  the  king  came  to  the  door.  The  king 
said  "I  have  heard  that  you  boasted  that  you  can  make  a  '  tiens-bcjn- 
la'  that  would  be  worth  more  than  the  meadmv,  and  a  great  advan- 
tage to  the  crown.  Now  you  shall  go  home  and  make  it.  and  unless 
you  bring  it  to  me  in  twice  twenty-ftiur  hours  you  shall  be  hanged 
before  the  palace  gate  "  The  baker  asked  "What  is  a '  tiens-bon-la  .^'  " 
The  king  replied  that  he  did  not  know,  but  that  he  must  have  one 
within  twice  twenty-four  hours.  Then  he  went  into  his  palace 
again.  The  poor  baker  went  away  more  disconsolate  than  before. 
He  had  no  idea  what  a  •■  tiens-bon-la"  was;  but  yet  he  would  be 
hanged  unless  he  made  one  within  twice  twenty-four  hours.  He  went 
out  into  the  forest  again  and  sat  down  on  the  same  log  that  he  sat  on 


I  I- 


54 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES  AND  RACONTEURS. 


!  f '  ;,i 


before.  He  cried  as  hard  as  he  could.  Wlien  he  liad  cried  liimself  to 
sleep  tlie  fairy  cameauain  and  waked  him  up  aiuiaslted  him  what  was 
the  matter,  lie  told  her  that  lie  should  certainly  be  handed  this  time 
tor  he  had  been  ordered  to  make  a  "  tiens-bon-la"  tor  the  kinij  and  he 
did  not  know  what  it  was.  Then  the  fairy  said,  "'It  is  only  that 
wicked  priest  who  is  in  love  with  your  wife  and  wants  to  j;et  rid  of 
you.  You  must  do  what  I  tell  you  and  the  priest  shall  be  punished, 
and  we  will  make  a  "  tiens-bon-l;\  "  that  will  satisfy  the  kini;.  Go 
to  your  house  and  tell  your  wife  that  you  are  Commanded  to  make 
a  "  tiens-bon-h\  "  for  the  kiniLi  and  you  have  noihini;  to  make  it  of. 
So  you  must  tell  her  that  you  must  no  away  for  two  days  to  buy 
some  iron,  leather,  wood  and  cloth  to  make  it  of.  Tell  her  to  put 
two  days'  provisions  in  a  baj,^  l<ir  you,  and  when  she  his  them  all 
ready  you  will  gn  to  y^ur  room  and  take  the  latch  otf  the  window. 
Then  you  will  say  j;ood-bye  to  your  wife  and  walk  about  the  city 
until  it  is  dark.  As  soon  as  you  are  i;one  your  wife  will  send  for 
the  cure  and  invite  him  to  supper.  After  it  is  dark  you  will  come 
back  to  your  iiouse  and  net  in  at  the  window  and  hide  yourself 
under  the  bed.  Now  a  priest  will  not  eat  without  lirst  washing  his 
hands.  When  he  comes  your  wife  will  send  him  into  the  room  to 
wash,  and  when  he  takes  hold  of  the  washb;isin  you  will  cry  out 
"tiens-bon-la."  Take  this  wand  that  1  will  i;ive  you  and  wave  it 
over  anythini;'  and  when  you  cry  "  tiens-bon-la  "  it  will  hold  last 
whatever  it  touches." 

The  baker  did  as  the  fairy  had  told  him.  and  his  wife  was  very 
ijlad  to  learn  that  he  was  uoins  away :  and  she  packed  up  a  lar^e  ban 
of  provisions  and  sent  him  oil. 

When  he  was  .none  she  sent  a  note  to  the  cuie  and  told  him  that 
her  husband  was  gone  away  for  two  d.iys  and  she  would  like  to 
have  h.im  come  to  supper.  The  baker  walked  around  the  city  until 
it  was  dark,  and  then  came  back  and  hid  himself  under  the  bed. 
His  wife  told  the  servant  to  set  the  table  and  prepaie  a  nice  supper, 
and  then  she  went  to  i;et  ready  to  receive  the  priest.  But  the  priest 
came  before  she  was  ready,  and  she  had  to  make  excuses  to 
him  and  say  "  Oh  M.  !e  Cure,  I  did  not  expect  you  so  st)on.  I  am 
not  dressed  for  supper."  So  she  showed  him  into  another  room 
and  said  she  wLiuld  be  ready  almost  as  soon  as  he  had  washed  his 
hands.  There  was  some  water  that  was  not  very  clean  in  the  wash- 
basin and  when  the  priest  took  hold  of  the  basin  to  throw  the  water 
out  the  baker,  who  was  under  the  bed,  cried  ont  "  tiens-bon-l;\,"  and 


01 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES   AND   RACONTEURS. 


55 


the  priest's  hands  stuck  to  the  basin  so  that  lie  could  not  let  ro.  He 
called  out  to  the  servant  to  come  and  help  him,  but  siie  was  busy 
about  the  supper  and  did  not  hear  him.  So  tiuMi  he  cried  out  as 
loud  as  he  could,  "Madame,  Madame!"  When  the  baker's  wife 
heard  him  she  was  dreadfully  frightened  and  ran  in,  iialr  dressed  as 
she  was,  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  When  sIk'  found  the  curJ 
stuck  to  the  wash-stand,  which  was  very  larue  and  heavy,  she  took 
hold  of  him  with  botli  liands  lo  pull  him  away.  Hien  her  iuisband 
cried  out  from  under  tiie  bed  "  tiens-boii-la,"  and  the  wife  could  not 
let  ,i(o  of  the  priest.  Then  the  baker  went  out  and  called  some  of 
his  friends  and  they  ale  the  supper  and  drank  the  wine  that  had  been 
prepared  for  the  cure,  who  was  stuck  to  the  wash-stand,  and  tiie 
wife,  who  Could  not  let  ro  of  tiie  priest. 

When  mornini;  came  the  baker  took  the  wand  tiiat  the  fairy  had 
,niven  him  and  told  his  wife  and  the  priest  that  ii  they  wanted  to  i;et 
loose  they  must  do  as  he  told  them.  He  mude  them  ,ijo  out  into  the 
street  and  started  them  towards  the  kind's  palace. 

As  soon  as  they  all  came  out  into  the  lii;lit  the  baker  saw  that 
there  was  a  hole  in  his  wife's  petticoat,  so  he  pulled  some  tjrass  and 
twisted  it  into  a  wisp  and  filled  up  the  hole.  Presently  they  came  to 
a  cow  that  was  feedini;  by  the  side  of  the  road.  There  was  not 
much  i,aass  there  and  the  cow  was  hungry,  so  when  she  saw  the 
wisp  of  j^rass  she  started  to  eat  it;  but  the  baker  waved  his  wand 
and  cried  "  tiens-bon-la  "  and  the  cow's  teeth  stuck  in  the  t^rass. 
Thev  all  went  alonu  till  they  came  to  a  lield  where  there  was  a  bull. 
When  the  bull  saw  the  cow  he  jumped  over  the  fence  to  see  where 
she  was  tjoiiiR.  The  cow  i;ave  him  a  switch  with  her  tail  across  his 
eyes,  the  baker  cried  "  tiens-bon-la,''  and  the  bull  went  aloiiy:  with 
the  rest.  Wiien  the  old  woman  who  owned  the  cow  saw  her  .uoinij 
oti'  in  this  manner  she  was  very  ant;ry  and  ran  out  with  the  wooden 
shovel  that  she  was  usini;  to  put  bread  into  the  oven  with  to  beat 
the  bull  and  drive  him  away  ;  but  tiie  baker  cried  nut  "  tiens-bon-la  " 
again  and  so  the  shovel  stuck  to  the  bull's  rump  and  the  old  woman 
could  not  let  ^n  of  the  shovel.  The  farmer  to  whom  the  bull  be- 
longed was  quite  lame,  and  limped  along  with  a  stick.  He  could  not 
go  very  fast,  but  he  went  as  well  as  he  could  to  see  what  the  old 
woman  was  beating  his  bull  for.  When  he  came  up  he  took  hold  of 
the  woman's  dress  to  pull  her  away,  but  the  baker  cried  out  again 
and  the  lame  farmer  had  to  go  with  the  others. 

So  they  all  went  to  the  king's  palace, — the  cure  with  the  wash- 


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56 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES  AND  RACONTEURS. 


basin,  the  woman  li()ldin,tj^  on  to  tlie  cure,  the  cow  tryinij  to  eat  the 
wisp  of  hay,  the  bull  and  the  old  woman  with  her  shovel,  and  the 
lame  farmer  with  his  stick.  The  baker  knocked  at  the  door,  and 
when  the  kinif  opened  it  he  said  "  0,  my  king,  you  commanded  a 
'  tiens-bon-lJl '  and  1  have  brought  you  one,  the  best  that  was  ever 
made.  If  your  majesty  will  be  pleased  to  try  it  I  hope  your  majesty 
will  be  content."  The  kin^  took  hold  of  the  basin  to  take  it  away 
from  the  priest,  the  baker  cried  "  tiens-bon-l.\  "  again,  and  the  king 
was  held  as  fast  as  the  others.  He  tried  hard  to  get  away  but  the 
"  tiens-bon-h\  "  was  good  and  would  not  let  go. 

Then  the  king  asked  the  baker  what  he  should  give  to  be  let  olf. 
After  a  long  time  the  baker  said  he  would  let  him  go  if  the  king 
would  give  him  forty  thousand  pounds  a  year  to  himself  and  each 
of  his  fifteen  children.  The  king  consented,  but  the  baker  said  he 
must  have  a  deed  made  by  a  notary.  So  they  sent  for  the  notary 
and  the  deed  was  made,  and  the  king  signed  it  on  the  wash-basin. 
The  baker  waved  his  wand  backwards,  the  "  tiens-bon-k\ "  was 
broken  and  they  all  went  away. 


To  tne,  one  of  the  charms  of  Nazaire's  story-telHng  is 
the  way  in  which  he  mixes  up  the  modern  with  the  myth- 
ical, the  possible  with  the  absurd.  In  this  he  excels  any 
story-teller  1  have  ever  heard.  Thackery  himself  was 
hardly  more  delightful  in  this  respect,  in  the  apparent  un- 
consciousness of  any  inconsistency. 

For  instance,  in  one  of  Nazaire's  stories  of  an  enchanted 
princess,  of  which  there  are  in  French  as  in  other  lang- 
uages a  great  many,  the  princess's  deliverer.  Petit  Jean,  finds 
in  the  enchanted  palace  a  table  spread  with  smoking  hot 
viands  among  which  were  boiled  pork,  sausages  and  other 
delicacies  dear  to  the  Canadians.  The  liquors  were  whis- 
key and  rum,  the  latter  being  the  best  real  Old  Jamacia. 
In  a  larger  and  grander  hall  was  a  still  superior  table  which 
furnished  not  only  these  but  pate's  and  black  puddings, 
with  wines  and  brandies,  the  latter  being  the  best  French 
brandy,  the  real  article,  premiere  qualitc,  la  meilleiire 
importation. 


1:1 


< 


AMUSEMENTS— CO.NTES   AND  RACONTEURS. 


57 


In  the  stable  vveie  horses  and  carriages  in  i^reat  numbers, 
a  "  heau  petit  bni>gy  ''  being  among  the  vehicles. 

The  giants  that  were  besieging  the  castle  tell  Petit  Jean 
that  the  only  vulnerable  place  in  the  eagle  that  guards  it  is 
only  "  joro5  comme  iin  dix  cents,"  or  no  bigijer  than  a  ten 
cent  piece.  When  Petit  Jean  has  shot  off  the  giant's  nose 
he  sticks  it  on  again  with  a  piece  of  s-t-i-c-k-i-n-g-p-1-a-s- 
t-e-r.  To  hear  Nazaire  say  s-t-i-c-k-i-n-g-p-1-a-s-t-e-r 
is  enough  to  set  any  company  in  a  roar. 

When  Petit  Jean  is  asked  to  take  a  drink,  he  replies 
'*  Je  preiiiirai  bien  idi  petit  coup,  en  effet,''  precisely  the 
words  that  the  Canadian  habitant  might  use  under  similar 
circumstances,  and  about  equivalent  to  the  "  I  don't  care  if 
1  do  "  of  one  to  whom  such  an  invitation  is  not  at  all  un- 
welcome. 

The  game  of  cards  that  the  giants  are  playing  is  a  pop- 
ular Canadian  game,  something  like  "  old  sledge." 

If  one  doubts  whether  ten  cent  pieces  were  common  in 
fairy  times,  whether  giants  used  sticking-plaster  for  their 
wounds,  and  whether  real  old  Jamaica  rum  and  the  best 
quality  of  French  brandy  were  imported  for  the  use  of 
deliverers  of  enchanted  princesses,  all  we  need  say  is  that 
this  history  of  Petit  Jean  furnishes  the  most  authentic  ev- 
idence possible  on  these  points. 

Conte  de  "  Mon  petit  de'funt  frere  Louizon." 

Si  vous  voulez  que  je  vous  conte  line  liistoire  de  mon  petit  del'iint 
fr^re  Louizon,  je  vous  en  conterai  une. 

Cliez  mon  pauvre  p^re  nous  etions  sept  ijarqons.  Nous  n'avions 
rien  de  quoi  mani,fer,  c'e'tait  Men  de  valeiir. 

Un  jour  mon  petit  de'funt  frere  Louizon  se  mit  a  nous  dire  que  si 
nous  avions  ciiacun  un  beau  petit  canot,  avec  lijrnage  ;\  proportion, 
peut-etre  que  Ton  pendrait  queiques  uros  poissons  qui  soulajjeraient 
bien  la  maison. 

Si  dit  si  fait.  On  s'enfuit  cliez  notre  pauvre  pfere  pour  faire  une 
composition. 


IK  ' 


ffl 


>il' 


^..-i^ 


5S 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES   AND   RACONTEURS. 


Notre  paiivie  pere  par  I'effet  de  sa  bont^  nous  sacrifiait  la  moiti^ 
de  ses  Mens  pu.  nous  avoir  cliacun  un  beau  petit  canot  avec  li.i^najje 
a  proportion,  pnur  aller  prendre  le  plus  beau  poisson  qu'il  y  avait 
dans  la  nier.    II  les  sacritiait  bien,  il  n'avait  rien  en  tout. 

Quand  nous  avions  nos  cliarmants  petits  canots  nous  allioiis  sur 
la  mer.  Qa  allait  pas  vite,  cependant  ^aallait  toujours  un  petit  brin. 
On  voyait  venir  une  grosse  barbue.  Qa  venait  pas  vite,  cependant 
q.x  venait  toujours  un  peu.  Qa  t  jmmencait  a  mordre.  Qa  mordait 
pas  vite,  cependant  ^a  mordait  toujours  un  petit  brin. 

Quand  on  la  voyait  un  peu  prise  c'etait.  "  Halle  gar^on,  Tire  gar- 
^on,  gargon  tire."  Mes  chers  amis  nous  avions  pris  une  belle  barbue 
quatorze  pieds  entre  les  deu.x  yeu.x.  Mesdames,  de  la  peau  mon  pauvre 
pere,  qui  e'tait  un  liomme  robuste,  s'est  fait  un  capot  avec  capuchon, 
tahlier,  cordes  de  Soulier,  cordes  de  couette— on  ne  parle  pas  de  ga  a 
present,  mais  dans  ce  temps  H  c'etait  la  grande  fa^on — corde  defleau, 
cliope  de  fleau ;  parce  que  mon  p^re  e'lait  un  pauvre  homme  qui  n'avait 
rien  de  quoi  battre.  ga  nous  a  bien  passe'  I'hiver. 

Alon  pauvre  p^re  gardait  les  cornees  des  yeu.x  pour  se  faire  des 
raquettes. 

C'est  alors  que  mon  pauvre  p^re  nous  a  de'fendu  la  peche.  II  a  dit '- 
"  Mes  chers  petit  enfants,  vous  ne  p^clierez  plus.  Vous  pourriez 
prendre  quelques  gros  esturgeons  qui  vous  enmenerait  tous  aufond. 
0-u-i." 

Mais  quand  nous  avions  llni  de  manger  notre  grosse  barbue  nous 
n'avions  plus  rien  toujuurs. 

Un  jour  mon  petit  defunt  t'r^re  Louizon  se  met  \  nous  dire  que  si 
nous  avions  cliacun  un  cliarniant  beau  petit  fusil  avec  ammunitiims 
rt  proportion,  pent  elre  que  Ton  tuerait  quelques  perdrix  ou  quelques 
lievres,  qui  soulageraient  bien  la  maison.  Si  dit  si  fait.  On  s'enfuit 
cliez  mon  pauvre  p^re  pour  faire  une  composition.  Notre  pauvre 
p^re  par  TefTet  de  sa  bonte  sacritiait  le  reste  de  son  bien  pour  nous 
aclieter  cliacun  un  beau  petit  fusil  avec  ammunition  a  proportion 
pour  tuer  le  plus  beau  gibier  qu'il  y  avait  dans  la  for^t. 

II  le  sacritiait  bien  par  ce  qu'il  n'avait  rien  eu  de  sa  vie. 

Quand  nous  avions  nos  cliarmants  beau.x  petits  fusils  par  malheur 
nous  elioiis  trop  jeunes  pmir  les  bander.  Notre  pauvre  p^re  s'est 
mis  a  les  bander.  II  les  bandait  pas  vite,  cependant  il  les  bandait 
toujours  un  peu.  1!  les  bandait  tous  les  sept,  cliacun  pour  luiit 
jours 

Quand  nous  avions  nos  cliarmants  beau.x  petits  fusils  nous  allions 


„ 


AMUSFMENTS— CONTES   AND   RACONTEURS. 


59 


dans  les  forets.     Iin:ii;iiiez  vmis  done  le  carnaval  que  nous  avons 
fait.     Nous  avons  fait  rencontre  d'une  vieille  sorciere. 

Mes  chers  amis,  eile  avait  qiiatorze  pieds  entre  les  deux  epaules.  Elle 
nous  a  pris  tons  les  sept  sous  les  bras  et  nous  a  promene's  iuiit  jours 
dans  les  fore'ts.  On  voyait  venir  en  beau  clievreuil.  II  ne  venail  pas 
vite.  cependant  il  venait  touiours  un  pen.  Mon  petit  defunt  frere 
Louizon,  si  souple  et  si  maniirance  de  son  corps,  laclie  son  coup. 
Nousn'avions  pas  encore  eu  le  temps  de  nous  delivrer  de  notre  vieille 
sorciere. 

Mes  chers  amis,  nous  avions  tue'  le  plus  beau  clievreuil,  quatorze 
pieds  de  panage.  Nous  prenions  un  jjros  morceau  dans  la  tete,  qx  ne 
paraissait  pas  beaucoup  dans  le  cote'.  Quand  nous  avions  pris  notre 
chari^e  on  s'enfuit  au  bord  du  bois.  Le  bord  du  bois  n'etait  pas 
loin,  c'etait  tout  autour  de  la  niaison. 

Nous  avons  trouv^  notre  pauvre  pere  bien  malade.  Nous  I'avons 
pris  bras  dessus  bras  dessous.  nous  I'avons  liciie  tout  autour.  C'est 
l;\  que  mon  petit  defunt  frere  Loui/on  a  attrappe  une  echautfaison,  a 
liciier  notre  pauvre  pere.    II  en  est  mort. 

C'est  bien  triste. 


In  Canadian  story-telling  there  is  a  universal  tendency 
to  exajjgeration  that  the  listener  soon  learns  to  take  into 
account,  it  is  not  the  picturesque  extravagance  of  expres- 
sion that  often  lends  such  vigorous  flavor  to  the  tales  of 
western  frontiersmen,  but  simply  exaggeration  pure  and 
simple.  I  do  not  look  on  it  as  deliberate  falsification,  but 
only  as  coming  from  the  habitual  inclination  of  a  narrator 
to  make  the  most  he  can  out  of  his  story. 

Nazaire  is  fond  of  comparing  our  appetites  in  camp  to 
that  of  the  man  (whose  name  and  residence  he  gives)  who 
was  in  the  habit  of  eating  a  six-pound  loaf  of  bread  at 
noon  while  waiting  for  his  dinner.  He  lived  to  be  105 
years  old,  but  is  supposed  to  have  died  from  having  eaten 
at  one  meal  three  pan-cakes  of  the  full  size  of  a  large  fry- 
ing pan  and  an  inch  thick,  with  an  immense  piece  of  fat 
pork  imbedded  in  each. 

Reading  an  account  of  a  western  cyclone,  I  mentioned 


f 


60 


AMUSEMENTS  -CONTES  AND  RACONTEURS. 


I' 


ill 


to  Nazaire  its  effects.  He  immediately  told  me  of  one  that 
passed  over  the  parish  of  St.  Stanislas  some  years  ago,  it 
blew  all  the  water  out  of  the  Batiscan  river  and  scattered 
the  fishes  over  the  country  for  a  distance  of  two  miles.  It 
rolled  a  pine  Ion  up  a  steep  hill,  tore  the  skin  otT  a  sheep 
and  lodged  it  in  a  spruce  tree  some  miles  away.  Worse 
than  that,  it  blew  ofi,  turned  wrong  side  out  and  twisted 
up  the  tire  of  a  cart-wheel  that  had  been  left  at  the  black- 
smith's shop  to  be  repaired.  He  mentioned  several  other 
exploits  that  1  have  forgotten.  When  I  had  incautiously 
questioned  the  accuracy  of  the  report  about  the  cart-wheel 
he  grew  quite  indignant,  and  declared  that  a  certain  cure  was 
still  living  who  could  vouch  for  the  truth  of  the  story.  I 
thought  that  if  I  were  going  to  believe  it  at  all  1  would 
as  soon  believe  it  on  Nazaire's  w^rd  as  on  the  cure''s,  so 
1  decided  not  to  ask  for  this  confirmation. 

I  consider  Nazaire  as  truthful  a  Canadian  as  I  ever  knew, 
but  I  notice  that  his  recollections  of  the  size  and  number 
of  the  fish  we  have  caught,  the  mountains  we  have  climbed, 
the  hardships  we  have  endured  and  the  hair-breadth 
escapes  we  have  had,  are  not  only  more  precise  than  mine, 
but  differ  from  them  in  many  other  respects.  He  can  give 
a  thousand  details  that  I  have  quite  forgotten.  When 
he  tells  these  stories  1  merely  compliment  him  on  his 
good  memory.  I  would  not  be  so  impolite  as  to  question 
his  exactness. 

The  reader  will  by  this  time  have  learned  that  Nazaire 
is  much  more  to  me  and  my  family  than  an  ordinary 
employe.  He  is  an  excellent  specimen  of  a  medium  class 
of  farmers  and  woodsmen,  for,  like  many  others,  he  com- 
bines the  two  occupations. 

In  the  early  fifties,  in  the  vigor  of  youth  and  strength, 
he  went  to  California  via  Panama,  remaining  there  about 
three  years.     His  experience  on  the   voyage  and   while 


I  i\i> 


<". 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES   AND   RACONTEURS. 


61 


llieie  would  be,  ovlmi  with  trills  and  embroidery  trimmed 
oil",  well  woi til  priiitiiis;.  Had  he  been  able  to  read  and 
write,  with  his  inteliii;ence,  sobriety  and  readiness  to  work 
at  anythinii  that  was  honest  he  minht,  in  those  times,  soon 
have  ,i:rown  rich.  He  worked  little  at  s^old-digning:,  but 
took  jobs  and  washes  from  others,  and  what  was  more,  he 
saved  most  of  his  earnings.  Toward  the  end  of  three 
years,  althoiigh  he  was  jjaininjj  more  than  he  ever  had 
done  before,  he  got  homesick,  which  is  not  surprising, 
seeing  that  he  had  left  his  young  wife  behind  him.  He 
brought  home  enough  to  pay  what  he  had  borrowed  for 
his  outlit  and  have  three  thousand  dollars  left  with  which 
to  buy  a  farm  and  stock.  Having  got  the  farm  into  run- 
ning order  he  went  to  work  in  the  woods,  exploring  in  the 
summer  and  fall,  making  logs  in  t!ie  winter  and  driving 
them  in  the  spring.  I  had  occasion  once  to  employ  him, 
and  he  has  stood  by  me  ever  since.  He  loves  the  woods 
as  a  sailor  loves  the  sea.  A  common  expression  between 
us  is  " /(•  bois  es/  /v.///"  (the  woods  are  beautiful),  and 
this  no  matter  what  the  weather  may  be.  In  summer  or 
winter,  sunshine  or  storm,  rain  or  snow,  le  bois  est 
ton/ours  beau.  Of  late  years,  when  our  duties  have  led 
us  to  where  there  were  no  comfortable  camps  near  at  hand, 
we  have  taken  a  tent  and  a  small  sheet-iron  stove  and 
camped  wherever  we  liked.  These,  with  our  blankets  and 
the  few  provisions  necessary,  could  easily  be  drawn  on  a 
toboggan.  Camping  in  a  tent  in  mid-winter  in  a  Cana- 
dian forest  does  not  sound  like  anything  very  attractive, 
but  it  is  one  of  the  joys  of  life  to  Na/aire  and  me.  When 
our  day's  work  is  done,  the  tent  set  up,  wood  all  in,  and 
our  little  stove  glowing,  supper  eaten,  pipes  lighted,  and 
we  lie  down  on  our  luxurious  bed  of  branches,  our  invari- 
able remark  is  "  ll-y-eu  a  bien  qui  sont  plus  mat  que 
nous  auties  "  (there  are  a  great  many  people  worse  otf 
than  we  are). 

6 


t    .  tj 


'11 


'  I 


w 


1 


62 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES   AND  RACONTEURS. 


mi. 


It  is  not  only  to  Naz;iire  and  nie  that  the-  woods  are 
beautiful.  Tlie  following  lines  were  written  for  insertion 
in  our  Camp  Register : 

Lt  BOIS  EST  TOIUOIJKS  BEAU. 
(The  woods  are  alwavs  bcanltfiil.) 


'Tis  Sprinir,  the  carlli  in  :ill  its  veins 

Feels  quickened  eui  rents  llovv, 
Like  tracery  <>n  storied  panes, 

Tlie  bouiitlisare  all  a-blow; 

Then  cunie,  let's  ii^o, 
"  Le  bois  est  tDUJoiirs  beau." 

Midsummer  Cullies  with  .scdrchinn  heat, 

The  deepest  thickets  i;i(i\v, 
The  earth  is  parched  beneath  our  feet. 

The  dry  brooks  cease  to  How  ; 

But  come,  let's  ^o, 
"  Le  bois  est  toujours  beau." 

'Tis  Autumn,  ripeninj;  red  and  K"ld 

In  all  the  tree-tops  show. 
With  rain  is  soaked  the  spongy  mold. 

Keen  blasts  the  dead  leaves  strow  ; 

Yet  Come,  let's  st>. 
"Le  bois  est  toujours  beau." 

'Tis  Winter,  thicker  on  the  lakes 

Their  frozen  fetters  j^row. 
The  myriad  life  that  summer  wakes 

Is  buried  deep  in  snow  ; 

Still  come,  let's  jjjo, 
"  Le  bois  est  toujours  beau." 

J.  B.  Greenough. 

One  especially  tempestuous  afternoon  we  greatly  sur- 
prised an  old  habitant  by  declining  the  shelter  of  his  house 
and  setting  up  our  tent  a  mile  away  in  the  woods.  He 
caine  to  see  us  the  next  morning,  half  expecting  to  find  us 


1 


AMUSEMENTS— COMES   AND   RACONTEURS. 


63 


dead,  instead  of  which  we  were  just  eatinjj  an  unusually 
jjood  breakfast,  and  were  as  happy  as  lords. 

Much  as  I  like  Naz'-re  myself,  my  family  outdoes  me. 
On  the  rare  occasions  when  he  comes  to  our  house  my 
two  jiirls,  who  were  little  things  in  short  dresses  when 
he  tirst  beiian  to  tie  their  snowshoes,  bait  their  hooks,  take 
off  their  fish,  and  generally  make  their  paths  smooth 
when  they  went  on  little  excursions  to  our  camp  with  me, 
still  rush  to  the  door  to  be  the  first  to  greet  him,  and  gener- 
ally make  much  of  him  till  he  beams  all  over  with  delight. 
My  wife,  who,  thanks  to  the  delicious  air  of  Canada,  is  no 
longer  an  invalid,  seeing  him  coming,  cries  out,  "  Why, 
here  is  dear  old  Nazaire  !  "  and  is  not  far  behind  the  girls. 
She  has  of  late  been  able  to  go  sometimes  to  the  camp, 
where  he  is  always  her  constant  and  devoted  attendant. 

Nazaire's  friend  and  crony,  Damase  (twelve  or  fifteen 
years  younger  than  he),  is  another  good  typical  specimen, 
although  much  more  woodsman  and  hunter  than  farmer. 
It  is  pleasant  to  see  the  two  together.  Nazaire  uses  the 
familiar  "  /// "  in  their  conversation,  but  Damase  always 
says  "  vous  "  to  Nazaire. 

I  think  there  must  be  a  strain  of  Indian  blood  in  Damase, 
perhaps  very  remo\ ,  !mh  still  there.  His  cheek  bones  sug- 
gest  it  and  there  art  o'li'  "ndications  as  well.  Distances 
on  foot  are  nothing  to  him,  »r  if  he  counts  them  at  all  it 
is  by  time  and  not  by  miles.  He  can  omit  several  meals 
without  inconvenience,  making  up  for  them  afterwards. 
He  is  not  like  Nazaire,  always  wishing  to  be  occupied, 
but  is  quite  willing  to  wait  or  sleep  till  the  time  comes 
when  something  is  to  be  done.  He  knows  the  habitat  and 
habits  of  every  beast  in  the  forest  and  every  fish  in  the 
streams.  Besides  beinj  a  most  expert  woodsman,  almost 
always  employed  at  good  wages,  he  usually  manages  to 
add  a  hundred  dollars  or  so  to  his  winter's  earnings  by 


I 


■I 


■w 


\ 


II 


[ft 

I  ^  ; 


(1 


II' 


64 


AMUSEMENTS— CONTES   AND  RACONTEURS. 


hunling  and  trappinij.  He  is  (MJiiiarily  as  taciturn  as  Na- 
zaiie  is  loquacious.  If  any  uj;ly  bit  of  work  is  to  be  J(tne 
Nazaire  is  careful  and  prudent,  takinj;  all  necessary  pre- 
cautions aj^ainst  accidents,  but  Daniase  ^oes  at  it  headlong', 
trustini;  to  his  bravery  and  his  unequaled  nerve  to  carry 
him  through.  He  is  a  splendid  canoeman  \i\  some  re- 
spects, but  somewhat  reckless,  often  shooting  rapids  that 
greater  experts  than  he  would  shrink  from,  (^consequently 
he  meets  inany  mishaps,  though  rarely  serious  ones. 

But  it  is  on  the  "  drive  "  that  he  is  j;reatest,  and  many 
are  the  stories  told  of  his  daring  exploits.  Unlike  most 
Canadians,  he  leaves  the  tellinji  of  his  adventures  to 
others,  rarely  speaking  of  them  himself. 

On  the  very  edge  of  the  perpendicular  clilT  that  I  have 
already  mentioned,  which  is  there  about  three  hundred  feet 
high,  and  where,  some  tifty  years  ago,  tire  consumed  almost 
everything  near  it,  stands  a  lofty  dead  pine  tree  without  a 
branch  until  near  the  very  top.  The  men  tell  how  l)amase 
once  climbed  to  the  highest  branch  where  he  could  look 
far  up  the  lake  and  see  if  his  logs  were  coming  all  right. 
Very  few  men  would  wish  to  attempt  such  a  feat. 


i  ■  i;i  ' 


part  I) 


THE  CHURCH 


I 


(>\ 


tJ: 


I   ■i.i 


ll 


\\ 


™ 


i 


.1 

! 
■     i 

t 

,1 

1 

• 

i* 

V"  t 

i 
1 

! 

.  i 

i 

J. 

THE  CHURCH 


Till:  parish  cliincli  is  I'lturally  the  centre  of  parish 
activities.  Most  ot  tlie  iiulustries  ot  the  p^'opie  uroiip  them- 
selves closely  aroiiikl  it.  It  is  built  l\y  a  tax  levied  on  the 
real  property  ot  all  Roman  (Catholics  in  the  parish,  collect- 
able by  the  usual  processes  of  law.  Those  who  wish  a 
church  to  be  built  petition  the  Bl>hop,  anj  the  decision 
whether  one  shall  be  built  rests  entirely  with  him. 

Usually  the  .grandeur  and  costliness  of  a  church  bear 
reasonable  relation  to  the  wealth  of  the  parish.  Occa- 
sionally, however,  the  necessary  tax  liecomes  so  heavy  as 
seriously  to  alTect  the  value  of  all  real  estate  sultject  to 
it  and  to  lay  heavy  burdens  on  the  people. 

The  revenues  of  the  Church  are  administered  by  the 
"  Fabrique,"  which  consists  of  the  church  wardens,  of 
whom  three  have  direction  of  ordinary  a  Tairs.  The  senior 
in  service  of  these  three  retires  at  the  end  of  a  year,  the  next 
in  service  taking:  his  place,  and  one  new  warden  is  chosen 
annually.  The  retiring  otficer  does  not  cease  to  be  a  warden 
but  is  still  a  part  of  the  "  Fabrique,"  and  in  important  mat- 
ters has  a  voice  and  a  vote.  The  cure  is  ex-oriicio  presi- 
dent of  the  "  Fabrique."  In  some  parishes  only  the  active 
and  past  wardens  are  entitled  to  vote  in  the  election  of  a 
new  warden,  but  in  mo>t  parishes  all  householding  parish- 
ioners may  vote.  Some  parishes  have  no  wardens,  all 
affairs  being  conducted  by  the  Bishop,  either  directly  or 
through  the  cure.  Similar  powers  of  administration  are 
also  sometimes  exercised  by  a  religious  community. 

The  revenues  of  priests  are  derived  from  a  tithe  of  the 
grain  raised,  the  payment  by  those  who  raise  no  grain  of 


wr 


I 


> 


II. 

f 


i 


"•lii 


68 


THE  CHURCH. 


a  small  siiiii,  say  50c  per  aniuini,  by  or  for  each  commu- 
nicant (including  children  after  they  have  made  their  lirst 
conmiiinion),  masses  said  for  the  dead  or  in  behalf  of  the 
livinsi,  marriage  fees,  funeral  services,  and  the  like. 

For  these  services  a  regular  scale  of  prices  is  lixed.  The 
usual  fee  for  a  simple  marriage  is  one  dollar.  Such  mar- 
riages also  ordinarily  take  place  in  the  morniiig,  for  the 
convenience  of  the  priest  and  his  daily  mass. 

Marriages  between  relatives  are  a  source  of  considerable 
revenue  to  the  Church,  although  not  to  the  parish  priest. 

For  these,  special  dis- 
pensations must  be  had, 
the  cost  depending  on 
the  degree  of  consan- 
guinity and  perhaps  in 
part  on  the  standing  and 
wealth  of  the  parties. 
Entirely  unsuspected 
relationships  suddenly 
discovered  on  the  eve 
of  a  marriage  ceremony 
have  been  known  to 
cause  considerable  em- 


-zc4f>-r^' 


^1    .^\V  ,  ,r-;      cause  considerable  em- 

nTnn-H'f  f  ■■!         barrassment    and   hur- 

'  H  ^'  pfef 'p:^  ,^  ried  visits  to  the  liishop. 

*  K'i'%. ^.p-^-.     hi  a   case  where   rela- 

'",    "-[h..   tionship  was  discovered 

"  ~  after  the  marriage  the 

priest  demanded  that  a  dispensation  should  be  obtained 
and  that  the  parties  should  be  married  over  again.  The 
man  refused,  saying  that  if  the  tirst  ceremony  was  not 
valid  the  woman  might  go  back  to  her  father.  Of  course 
he  was  soon  compelled  to  submit.  In  another  case,  where 
a  widower  had  been  several  years  married  to  a  widow,  it 


1 
•* 


^ 


'>T 


Tlir.   CHURCH. 


69 


was  discovered  that  the  man  had  been  iiodfather  to  one  of 
the  children  by  the  first  maniaiie.  It  was  claimed  that  this 
fact  invalidated  the  subseqnent  marriage,  and  that  a  dis- 
pensation must  be  obtained  and  a  new  marriage  performed. 
(This  contention,  I  believe,  was  not  maintained.) 

The  numerous  way-side  crosses  always  interest  travelers 
from  countries  where  such  tilings  are  not  common.     They 


are  found  on  all  country  roads,  and  are  more  or  less  elab- 
orate, according  to  the  deviation  and  wealth  of  those  who 
erect  them,  perhaps  a  single  person,  a  family.  t»r  a  num- 
ber of  neighbois.  A  full-si/,ed  figure  carved  in  wood  of 
Christ  on  the  cross  is  not  rare.  This  is  called  a  "  cnlvaiie  " 
and  is  usually  neatly  enclosed  by  a  fence  and  rcofed  over. 
Occasionally  more  pretentious  emblems  may  be  niLt,  as  of 
Christ  and  the  two  thieves.  Permission  to  photograph  one 
of  these,  asked  from  the  family  near  whose  house  it  stood, 


!. 


vj:^ 


70 


THE  CHURCH. 


1  \i 


was  not  only  given  readily,  but  the  women  of  the  family 
volunteered  to  go  out  and  pose  themselves  before  it,  to  suit 
the  photoi>iapIier.  The  utter  nonchalance  of  the  offer  and 
absence  of  any  devotional  sentiment  about  it  was  striking. 

Funerals  add  much  to  the  revenue  of  the  church,  and 
are  costly  on  a  rapidly  rising  scale  in  proportion  to  the 
amount  of  ceremonial.  The  fees  for  a  very  simple  ser- 
vice may  be  from  ten  to  twenty  dollars,  and  for  a  more 
elaborate  one  may  easily  be  carried  up  to  hundreds.  These 
expensive  ceremonies,  however,  are  rare  in  country  par- 
ishes, although  common  in  cities.  The  habitant's  finieral 
is  usually  of  an  luimhle  character,  and  takes  place  at  an  early 
hour  in  the  morning,  for  the  same  reason  as  marriages. 

Apart  from  tithes  and  those  sources  of  income  which 
belong  to  the  cure  personally,  the  revenues  are  mainly 
devoted  to  the  emlvUishment  of  the  church  and  similar 
objects  when  once  the  church  is  built  and  paid  for. 

The  priests  are  not  all  bound  to  poverty.  The  cure 
of  a  prosperous  parish  may  become  a  very  wealthy  man. 
He  will  probably  leave  part  of  his  property  for  religious 
objects,  but  his  relatives  will  expect  to  share  in  it. 

It  is  claimed  that  the  requirements  of  the  Church  are 
much  more  onerous  and  its  regulations  more  striiiiient  than 
formerly.  It  has  recently  been  ordered  that  women  shall 
not  sing  in  church  choirs.  One  cure  tries  to  prevent 
young  people  of  dilYerent  sexes  from  walking  to  church 
together.  Another  is  especially  severe  on  dancing,  but  it 
has  been  found  when  they  get  out  of  his  sight  his  parish- 
ioners are  disposed  to  dance  quite  as  long  as  a  tiddler  will 
play.  Dancing  is  permitted  at  weddings  and  on  ceremo- 
nious occasions,  but  is  looked  upon  with  strong  disfavor 
by  most  of  the  clergy.  In  other  respects  the  demands  of 
the  Church  are  said  to  have  become  heavier.  There  is 
much  dilTerence  between  priests  in  all  such  matters  as  these, 


.,{: 


:i 


■I 


I 


Ml 


n 

11)  li 

if     •  'V 

1  N  !i 


I    ''' 


It 


<' 


THE  CHURCH. 


71 


some  being  extremely  rigid  while  others  are  moderately 
liberal.  The  general  tendency  appears  to  me  to  be  towards 
greater  strictness,  but  I  can  only  judge  from  what  I  hear 
spoken  of  among  the  people. 

Mixed  marriages  are  str  gly  objected  to,  and  are  not 
considered  as  sacraments,  likt  those  between  Roman  Cath- 
olics. They  are  legal  marriages,  but  the  Church  "  neither 
blesses  nor  curses  them  " ;  they  are  allowed  to  be  treated 
as  civil  contracts  only.  Formerly  children  of  such  mar- 
riages were  allowed  to  be  .  roughi  up  in  the  faith  of  the 
parent  of  the  same  sex  ;  now  it  must  be  agreed  that  all 
the  children  shall  be  brought  up  Roman  Catholics. 

Pope  Pius  IX  was  once  reported  lo  have  said  that  the 
French  Canadians  were  the  most  submissive  in  matters  of 
faith  of  any  catholics  in  the  world  ;  but  that  on  some  other 
matters  they  brought  more  questions  before  him  than  oth- 
ers. These  disputes  probably  related  to  jurisdiction  and 
the  like  between  the  higher  clergy,  or  to  quarrels  of  a  more 
or  less  secular  character  between  priests  and  people. 

No  fee  is  paid  to  the  priest  for  christenings,  but  if  the 
bell  is  rung  the  beadle  is  paid  for  ringing  it.  The  ringing 
of  the  bell  is  an  act  of  worship,  and  is  seldom  omitted. 

Some  of  the  names  given  to  boys  seem  strange  to  us, 
and  we  often  wonder  where  the  parents  found  them,  for 
these  uncommon  names  are  not  usually  hereditary  in  fam- 
ilies. Often  such  a  name  is  that  of  the  saint  whose  festival 
occurs  on  the  birthday  of  the  child,  as  shown  on  the  calen- 
dar for  the  year,  issued  on  a  large  sheet  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  ecclesiastical  authorities.  We  have  near  us 
such  names  as  Adjutor,  Clovis,  Gaudiase,  HermenegilJe, 
Hermidas,  etc.  The  names  of  girls  are  ordinarily  less 
striking  than  those  of  boys,  although  some  of  them  are 
rather  peculiar. 
The  clergy  tell  me  that  the  common  idea  that  every  boy 


m 


M 


I 


I 


TV 


n 


THE  CHURCH. 


'?■ 


, 


A 

I. 


m 


is  christened  "  Joseph  "  and  every  g:iri  "  Marie  "  is  not 
coirect.  It  is  enough  if  the  child  has  the  name  of  some 
patron  sa'.t.  As  these  two  are  the  most  venerated  names 
they  are  the  ones  most  frequently  given  But  the  people, 
my  friends  the  habitants,  stiii  insist  that  they  are  right, 
and  tiiat  even  if  the  name  does  not  alway:^  go  into  the 
priest's  register  (as  it  certainly  does  not),  the  child  has  it 
all  the  same.  The  only  way  in  which  I  can  reconcile  these 
different  ideas  is  on  the  principle  that,  as  St.  Joseph  is  the 
religious  patron  of  all  French  Canadians,  the  boy  is  as- 
sumed to  have  his  name  whether  it  is  specially  mentioned 
or  not.    And  similarly  every  girl  has  the  name  "  Marie." 

In  1624  St.  Joseph  was  solemnly  chosen  and  installed, 
with  all  the  ceremony  possible  at  that  time,  religious  pat- 
ron of  all  Canada.  The  choice  of  St.  Jeaii  Baptiste  as  the 
national  patron  was  only  made  in  the  present  century. 

The  founders  of  the  Ursuline  Communitie  consecrated 
themselves  and  all  the  results  of  their  labors  in  Canada  to 
the  Holy  Family  before  their  departure  from  France. 

All  churches  are  dedicated  to  some  saint :  to  St.  Anne, 
to  St.  Joseph,  and  many  to  the  Virgin  in  some  one  of  her 
manifestations,  as  "of  the  Incarnation,"  "  of  the  Assump- 
tion," "  of  Sorrows,"  etc. 

The  word  dit  (called)  so  often  seen  in  connection  with 
proper  names,  as  The'ophile  Langlois  dit  Bernard,  may 
happen  to  be  used  for  a  variety  of  reasons.  When  a 
family  name  follows  the  dit  it  is  often  because  of  a  sec- 
ond marriage  of  the  mother  when  her  child  is  known  and 
brought  up  under  the  name  of  its  stepfather.  When  a 
baptismal  nailie  follows  dit  it  is  merely  to  distinguish  one 
person  from  another.  In  this  case  The'ophile  Langlois 
was  always  called  by  us  Theophile  Bernard,  because  his 
father's  (Zlhristian  name  was  Bernard.  In  notarial  docu- 
ments the  name  would  most  probably  Ite  written  "  The'o- 


■■ 


THE   CHURCH. 


73 


pliile  l.anglois  dil  Bernard,"  for  his  more  certain  identiti- 
catioii.  Notaries  are  liabitually  very  careful  in  respect  to 
ideiitif}inji  their  clients.  We  have  also  here  Isidore  Noel 
and  Ainie  Noel,  brothers,  sons  of  Noel  Frenette,  there 
beinij  several  families  of  Frenettes  in  this  and  neijjhlxMing 
parishes.  If,  in  conversation,  a  person  should  speak  of 
Isidore  Frenette  he  nii^ht  be  asked  what  Isidore  was  re- 
ferred to  and  might  reply  "  Isidore  a  Noel,"  althoui^h  in 
familiar  speech  the  (i'  would  be  omitted.  In  some  places 
the  method  of  identitication  is  carried  still  further.  Thus 
we  have  Felix  ii  (son  of)  Samuel  a  (son  of)  Joseph-lgnace 
Giiiiiac  (the  j  between  Joseph  and  li^nase  omitted  for 
euphony),  and  Hilare  a  Joseph  a  Henri  </  Pierre  Vachon. 

Sobriquets  are  very  common,  not  altogether  as  nick- 
names, although  they  often  mark  some  personal  pecu'iar- 
ity,  but  merely  to  distinguish  one  person  from  another. 

Tile  priests  that  I  have  met  1  have  foinid  generally  to 
be  educated  and  cultivated  men,  some  of  course  much 
more  so  than  others,  I  judge  that  the  extremes  of  culture 
and  education  would  be  hardly  as  great  as  among  the 
clergy  of  New  England.  The  facilities  for  education  for 
the  priesthood  are  good,  and  easily  and  cheaply  obtained. 
A  certain  amount  of  education  is  absolutely  requisite,  and 
a  man  cannot  preach  and  exhort  merely  because  he  feels 
moved  to  do  so,  as  he  might  in  some  sects  in  the  States. 
He  must  be  duly  authorized.  But  neither  on  the  other 
hand  can  the  priest  attain  to  the  vigor  and  independence 

Note. —  In  m;my  l;imilii's  i  if  sonie  dislinctinii  uiKcstr.il  ii.iiiK's  uie 
caretully  preserved  here  as  elsewliere.  aiui  liie  wliole  iiaiiie  i'^eciunes 
a  lini.i;  line,  as  intlie  case  of  an  ulii  ac\]iiaintaiK'e  of  niine(IVace  to  his 
ashes  I)  whose  name  was  Cliarles  Joseph  Louis  Alexander  Fleury 
de  la  Giiri;endiere.  In  Ihe  emnse  of  lime,  however,  the  capital  G 
had  been  dropped  and  tiie  name  as  used  beeame  Laj;ori;endiere. 
.The  family  name  of  Fleury  was  retained.  Similarly  La  Clieviotiere 
became  Lacheviotiere,  d'Eschambault,  Deschambault,  etc. 


7^ 


'' 


74 


THE  CHURCH. 


of  thought  of  the  less  fettered  minister ;  nor  inJeed  are 
these  qualities  called  for  in  the  ordinary  parish  priest. 
When  a  course  of  preaching  is  desired  the  services  of  a 
priest  of  an  order  that  makes  preaching  its  specialty  are 
secured. 

The  priests  come  from  and  are  of  the  people.  Any 
youn^H  man  may  aspire  to  the  priesthood  ;  and  if  he  aspires 
to  it  he  is  encoura!.;ed  and  aided  to  reach  it.  His  parents 
will  be  proud  to  have  one  of  their  sons  become  a  priest, 
and  if  poor  will  often  deprive  themselves  of  luxuries  and 
even  of  comforts  in  order  to  help  him.  He  is  assured  of 
position  and  support,  and  credit  is  likewise  retlected  on 
themselves,  for  unless  the  young^  man  shows  a  clean  family 
record  he  will  not  be  admitted  to  the  order.  A  whole  parish 
sometimes  takes  an  interest  in  having  one  of  its  children 
received.  1  remember  once  when  passing  through  a  vil- 
lage I  found  it  decorated  with  tlags  and  evergreens.  Inquir- 
ing the  reason  I  was  informed  that  it  was  because  a  young 
man  of  the  parish  was  that  day  to  be  made  a  priest. 

All  the  cures  are  removable  at  the  discretion  of  their 
Bishop,  except  one  in  Montreal  and  one  in  Quebec.  This 
power  of  removal  was  one  for  which  Laval,  the  tirst 
Bishop,  fought  long  and  hard. 

The  Canadian  is  strongly  attached  to  his  religion  and 
gives  attention  to  its  observances  whether  he  abides  by  its 
moral  precepts  or  not.  In  the  elegance  of  his  parish 
church  the  habitant  takes  great  pride.  The  feast  days  of 
the  Church  are  the  dates  from  which  he  reckons.  He 
may  not  be  able  to  tell  you  the  month  in  which  anything 
occurred,  but  he  will  say  whether  it  happened  before  or 
after  Les  l-ctcs  (Christmas  holidays),  Paqiies  (Haster),  Art 
Toiissaiii/  (All  Saints'  Day),  or  other  festival.  There 
are  not  very  many  of  these  festivals  whose  observance  is 
positively  obligatory,  but  there  are  many  others  that  are 


♦-'it-. 


'  ■  .H 

il  I 


Il 


m 


/* 


u 


Ij 


l' 


Y'ir 


111 


THE  CHllKCH. 


75 


I 


more  or  less  strictly  observed,  sometimes  much  to  the 
annoyance  of  the  people  who  pay  no  attention  to  them 
and  tind  their  business  or  pleasures  interrupted  by  them. 

One  may  sometimes  tind  himself  in  a  parish  where  a 
'•  retniilf  "  (retreat)  is  in  order.  This  lasts  nine  days,  dur- 
inj>  which  nearly  the  whole  time  is  i^iven  up  to  relii^ious 
exercises.  Ketreats  are,  however,  rare.  I  remember  only 
two  in  our  parish  in  the  last  nine  years.  The  devotions 
known  as"/t^.s  ijiniiiiii/e  heiires"  (the  forty  houisj  are 


^- 


•i'; 


held  annually.  Very  little  except  strictly  necessary  work  is 
done  during  this  time,  and  attendance  at  church  is  jjeneral. 
In  this  Province  there  are  now  no  general  religious  cere- 
monies held  out  of  doors  except  that  of  (j)rpns  Chrisfi, 
which  is  celebrated  here  as  in  all  Kuinan  Catholic  countries 
by  open  air  processions  when  the  weather  will  permit. 
In  the  cities  the  processions  are  larger  and  more  ijor^neous, 
but  they  lack  the  simple  picturesqueness  of  thos.*  of 
country  parishes.  In  these  the  route  of  the  procession  is 
thickly   bordered   with  '' lhili{es,"   on   which   are    hung 


,   < 


nl 


1 


ii 


ii^'i 


76 


THE   CHURCH. 


r« 


/ 


showy  Jccoratioiis  iif  all  Jescriptinns,— strips  of  cloth  of 
various  colois,  quilts,  carpetiiii^,  curtains  taMc-cinlhs  and 
the  like.  Arches  of  cveri^rt'ens  arc  huiil  aikl  ornamented 
with  pictures,  mottles,  and  llai;s.  At  intervals  small  pri- 
vate altars,  called  "A!('/'().Si)//'5,"  are  erected  under  structures 
ol  everijreens and  decorated  with  llowers  (usually  of  paper), 
crosses  and  reliL;ious  emblems,  pictures,  etc.  The  road  is 
swept  clean  iinki  sprinkled  with  fresh  sawdust.  In  the  vicin- 
y  of  ''kt'fnjsoirs  "  at  least,  lines  of  carpetiiiii  are  laid  down. 
Issuiui:  from  the  church  the  procession  takes  up  its 
route,  the  priest  in  his  most  showy  robes  bearing  the  Host, 
walking  under  a  i^orgeous  canopy  carried  by  four  men, 
preceded  by  the  choir  in  their  surplices  sini:in,t;  canticles, 
others  bearinsj'  banner^,  and  by  two  boys  swinsiiiiii  censers 
of  burning;  incense;  then  lolhtw  the  little  i^irls  and  the 
maidens,  dressed  in  white,  and  llie  boys  in  dark  clothes, 
all  carryins^  tlags.  The  women  (>n  one  side  of  the  road 
and  the  men  on  ihe  other,  in  double  tiles,  complete  the 
procession.  Arrived  before  one  of  these  "  Ri'posoirSj^  all 
devoutly  kneel  while  the  priest  recites  the  appropriate 
prayers.  The  procession  re-tormsand  proceeds  to  another 
altar,  returnim;   to  the  church  in  the  same  order.     The 

whole  ceiemony  lasts 
from  half  to  three-quar- 
ters of  an  hour.  As  soon 
as  the  procession's  back 
is  turned  the  women 
who  have  remained  at 
home  make  haste  to 
remove  their  portable 
property  from  the  altars 
and  road,  and  in  live 
minutes  there  is  little  be- 
sides the  "  baliies  "  and 


V    -!." 


I! 


! 


«  'I 


! 


fi 


.,(IIH»i  ■BFI'^HF.l- 


J^».^l 


THE  CHURCH. 


77 


the  unusually  clean  street  to  tell  of  the  ceremonies  per- 
formed. 

The  condition  of  the  priest  has  changed  very  much 
more  than  his  character.  With  the  exception  of  a  few 
missionaries  the  priests  are  not  now  obliged  to  make  long 
and  arduous  journeys,  to  endure  the  extremest  hardships 
and  even  to  suffer  martyrdom  for  their  Church,  as  in 
former  times.  We  have  no  reason  to  think,  however, 
that  the  priest  of  to-day  would  shrink  from  these  if  they 
were  necessary  any  more  than  did  his  predecessors.  The 
fervor  of  Jesuit  zeal  has  perhaps  in  a  measure  subsided, 
but  the  early  Fathers  of  that  order  impressed  their  prin- 
ciples so  deeply  and  strongly  on  the  Canadian  Church 
and  clergy  that  their  influence  is  felt  to  this  day.  Their 
power  and  activity  were  always  very  great  at  Quebec. 
Quarrels  between  them  and  the  governors  of  the  colony 
were  almost  incessant,  each  accusing  the  other  of  trickery 
and  doubledealing.  Doubtless  both  were  correct.  Some 
of  the  governors  and  other  officials  were  far  from  being 
models  of  punctilious  honesty,  while  the  ambition  of  the 
Jesuits  was  as  unbounded  as  their  zeal  and  devotion,  and 
their  scruples  as  to  methods  were  few.  Their  disputes 
with  the  Sulpitians  of  Montreal  were  scarcely  less  bitter. 
The  Sulpitians,  however,  were  less  inclined  to  meddle 
with  public  affairs,  confining  themselves  more  to  their 
purely  religious  functions  and  to  the  development  of  their 
estates. 

The  parish  priest  of  to-day  holds  his  parishioners  to  as 
strict  an  observance  of  their  obligations  to  the  Church  and 
is  no  more  tolerant  of  heresy  among  them  than  was  the 
priest  of  the  seventeenth  century.  He  cannot  say  now,  as 
was  said  then,  "  There  are  no  heretics  in  New  France,"  for 
some  religious  toleration  had  become  necessary  before  the 
Conquest,  and  full  toleration  was  required  after  it ;  but  in 

7 


I 


78 


THE  CHURCH. 


^fi   i 


H 


his  own  flock  he  combats  heresy  as  strongly  as  did  Laval 
or  St.  Valier.  Catholics  and  Protestants  now  live  as  a 
rule  in  entire  harmony,  a  harmony  creditable  to  both 
parties.  There  are  very  few  conversions  on  the  one  side 
or  the  other,  and  little  attempt  at  proselyting. 

The  minimum  salary  for  a  priest  sent  to  a  parish  or  mis- 
sion permanently  is  four  hundred  dollars,  although  some 
will  volunteer  to  take  a  place  where  that  amount  cannot 
be  raised.  1  heard  of  one  a  few  days  ago  who  had  gone  to 
try  a  place  where  not  even  two  hundred  dollars  could  be 
promised.  By  having  his  sister  to  keep  his  house  and  his 
brother  to  cultivate  some  land,  both  without  pay,  he  hoped 
to  exist. 

The  priest  who  was  formerly  paid  by  a  tithe  (1-26)  on 
the  grain  raised  in  his  parish  now  sometimes  finds  it  hard 
to  get  anything  else  in  its  place.  In  a  neighboring  par- 
ish on  one  occasion  the  cure  gave  his  parishioners  a  tre- 
mendous scolding  for  raising  other  articles  instead  of 
grain  on  purpose  to  save  his  tithes.  The  habitants  laughed 
at  him.  They  had  the  greatest  regard  for  their  cure  in 
his  spiritual  capacity,  but  when  it  came  to  paying  out 
cash  or  its  equivalent  they  would  as  soon  get  the  better  of 
him  as  of  any  one  else.  1  remember  when,  in  the  time  of 
the  Reciprocity  Treaty  with  the  States,  there  were  buyers 
of  oats  for  shipment,  the  first  man  the  purchasers  went  to 
was  the  miller,  whose  tolls  were  sure  to  be  good,  and  the 
last  one  was  the  priest,  who  would  have  the  poorest  grain 
of  any  one. 

I  know  of  another  priest  any  one  of  whose  people 
would  be  most  delighted  if  he  could  get  the  better  of  him 
in  a  horse  trade.     I  have  been  told  this  is  hard  to  do. 

The  priest  of  our  parish  has  preached  and  talked  faith  - 
fully  on  the  importance  of  cleanliness,  drainage,  and  disin- 
fection as  precautions  against  diphtheria,  but  the  people 


'i 


ca 


M 


THE  CHURCH. 


79 


pay  not  the  slightest  attention  to  anything  of  that  sort 
that  he  says.  Consequently  this  dreaded  disease  creates 
fearful  ravages  among  the  children  every  year. 

This  is  rather  a  common,  though  not  by  any  means  the 
universal,  feeling  towards  the  priest, — a  thorough  reliance 
on  his  dicta  in  spiritual  matters  combined  with  some  awe 
of  him,  " on  general  principles"  as  we  might  say,  and  an 
entire  disregard  of  his  views  on  other  points. 

A  religious  exercise  that  includes  what  some  consider  a 
pleasure  excursion  is  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Shrine  of  Ste. 
Anne  de  Beaupre',  or  "  La  bonne  Ste.  Anne,"  some  twenty 
miles  below  Quebec  on  the  St.  Lawrence.  For  many  years 
this  shrine  has  been  celebrated  for  miraculous  virtues. 
During  the  summer  season  parties  from  most  of  the 
parishes  within  fairly  easy  reach,  and  latterly  even  from 
considerable  distances,  are  made  up  to  visit  it.  Within  a 
few  years  a  railroad  has  been  built  from  Quebec,  and  the 
journey  from  Ihat  point  may  be  quickly  and  easily  made. 
But  a  more  lavored  way  is  to  go  by  a  special  trip  of  one 
of  the  small  steamers  that  make  more  or  less  regula'  voy- 
ages from  the  river  points  to  Quebec  for  the  market  days. 
The  business  part  of  the  excursion  is  managed  much  like 
that  of  Sunday-school  picnics,  the  priest  of  the  parish  and 
one  or  two  others  usually  making  preliminary  arrange- 
ments of  dates,  rates  of  fare,  and  the  like.  Sometimes 
one  man  may  charter  a  steamer  and  make  a  little  specu- 
lation out  of  the  business.  Fares  are  low,  and  the  people 
mostly  carry  their  own  provisions,  so  that  the  trip  is  not 
an  expensive  one,  and  the  boats  are  almost  always  uncom- 
fortably crowded. 

Take  a  trip  from  an  up  "  r  parish  fifty  or  sixty  miles 
from  Quebec.  The  boat  t  start  at  an  early  hour,  say 
five  or  six  o'clock — depending  on  the  tide — and  the  peo- 
ple must  leave  their  homes  often  at  two  or  three  o'clock 


I 


.1 


I 


m 


f 


80 


THE  CHURCH. 


in  the  morning.  They  reach  Ste.  Anne  perhaps  about 
noon,  spend  an  hour  or  two  in  religious  exercises  and  in 
looking  about,  and  then  start  for  home,  which  they  will 
not  reach  till  very  late  at  night.  They  have  had  a  hard 
day,  and  admit  being  fatigued,  but  not  one  will  allow  the 
trip  to  have  been  unprofitable,  for  prayers  said  at  the 
shrine  are  supposed  to  have  very  great  elTicacy.  One 
woman  perhaps  expressed  the  general  feeling.  She  had 
come  from  some  point  in  the  States,  and  was  disposed  to 
comment  on  the  hardships  and  expenses  of  her  journey. 
"  Why,"  said  she,  "for  the  same  money  we  might  have 
gone  to  Saratoga  and  enjoyed  ourselves.  But  then  [re- 
signedly] only  think  how  much  good  it  has  done  to  our 
souls." 

The  church  of  Ste.  Anne  is  very  fine,  and  the  decora- 
tion of  a  high  order.  Most  of  it  was  done  by  Italian 
artists,  brought  over  for  the  purpose.  American  tourists 
to  Quebec  who  have  the  time  to  spare  now  try  to  include 
a  visit  to  Ste.  Anne  with  their  other  sight-seeing.  The 
church  is  claimed  to  possess  a  genuine  relic  of  Ste.  Anne, 
and  some  miracles  are  reported  to  be  performed  there 
every  year. 

The  priests  receive  confessions  on  board  the  steamers 
en  route.  Mass  is  said  shortly  after  arrival,  at  which 
those  who  have  confessed  receive  communion,  and  all  are 
tlien  at  liberty  to  occupy  themselves  as  they  like  until 
called  to  start  for  home. 

The  people  seem  to  have  considerable  confidence  in 
possible  benefits  to  be  derived  from  a  pilgrimage,  and  there 
is  always  a  number  of  invalids  in  a  party.  They  certainly 
ought  to  be  benefitted  in  some  way  to  offset  the  discom- 
forts and  sufferings  of  the  journey. 

Some  priests,  however,  do  not  look  with  much  favor  on 
these  pilgrimages,  and  quietly  abstain  from  helping  to  ar- 


1 


THE  CHURCH. 


81 


range  them,  although  not  opposing  them.  But  that  is 
usually  sufficient.  If  the  priest  is  cold  or  lukewarm  in  the 
matter  the  people  are  not  likely  to  be  very  enthusiastic. 
We  need  not  say  they  lack  faith  in  the  virtues  of  the 
shrine  ;  they  may  think  that  the  evil  results  of  a  pilgrim- 
age overbalance  the  good.  Order  is  generally  well  kept, 
but  it  would  not  be  strange  if  among  so  many  people  there 
should  be  occasional  excesses  and  irregularities. 


■     ; 


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part  m 


MARRIAGES  AND  FESTIVITIES 


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4 


MARRIAGES  AND  FESTIVITIES 


Marriages  are  contracted  among  the  poorer  Canadians 
in  the  same  reckless,  improvident  manner  as  among  the 
very  poor  all  over  the  world.  There  is  not  much  calcu- 
lation as  to  how  the  future  family  is  to  be  supported.  If 
a  man  can  get  enough  to  eat  for  himself  he  seems  to  think, 
it  will  suffice  for  two ;  and  the  women  appear  to  be  of 
the  same  opinion.  A  man  was  earning  four  dollars  and  a 
half  a  week  on  which  to  support  a  wife  and  three  young 
children.  His  son  by  a  former  marriage  was  earning  only 
five  dollars  a  month  when  he  took  it  into  his  head  to 
marry  and  go  to  live  with  his  father.  The  house,  of  one 
room,  twenty  feet  square,  was,  with  the  aid  of  some  calico 
curtains,  made  the  home  tf  both  families.  The  two 
women  cooked  their  separate  meals  on  the  same  stove, 
each  man  providing  his  portion  of  the  wood. 

Another  couple  was  to  be  married  as  soon  as  the  man 
could  get  money  enough  ahead  to  pay  the  priest's  fee. 
He  got  near  enough  to  it  one  week  to  induce  him  to  set 
the  wedding  for  the  next  Monday  morning,  but  he  cele- 
brated the  ceremony  in  advance  rather  too  much,  and 
Saturday  night  found  him  short  of  the  requisite  dollar. 
Sunday  afternoon,  however,  he  went  tishing  and  caught 
and  sold  "  tommy  cods  "enough  to  realize  the  amount 
that  was  lacking. 

1  have  heard  another  man  say  that  when  he  had  paid 
the  priest's  fee  for  marrying  him  he  had  just  fifty  cents 
left.    The  woman  had  not  even  that.     I  imagine  their 


1 

4 

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« 


1 


86 


MARRIAGES  AND  FESTIVITIES. 


!■ 


I 


Li 


V 


h  ,'ii 


If  h' 


balance  in  hand  has  oftener  been  less  than  fifty  cents  than 
over  it  ever  since. 

A  rather  amusing  instance  of  proclivity  to  matrimony 
came  under  our  notice.  A  very  poor  woman,  middle 
aged  (and  1  think  the  strongest  woman  1  ever  saw),  was 
doing  scrubbing  for  us  when  she  met  with  a  trifling  acci- 
dent which  kept  her  away  for  a  few  days.  When  we 
asked  when  she  could  come  back  to  work  we  were  in- 
formed that  she  was  going  to  get  married  and  would  not 
work  any  more  for  anybody.  As  she  had  been  a  widow 
less  than  two  months  we  were  a  little  surprised,  and  in- 
quired into  the  particulars.  It  appears  that  while  she  was 
in  attendance  on  her  late  aged  and  infirm  husband  the 
people  in  whose  house  the  couple  occupied  a  room  gave 
lodging  one  night  to  a  one-armed  beggar.  He  was  so 
much  pleased  with  the  manner  in  which  she  took  care  of 
the  old  man  that  he  expressed  his  intention  of  coming 
back  after  her  husband  was  dead  and  marrying  her.  In 
the  course  of  time  the  old  man  died  and  the  beggar  came 
for  her.  When  asked  why  such  a  strong,  healthy  woman 
as  she  was  should  want  to  marry  a  crippled  beggar  she 
replied  that  she  was  tired  of  work  and  wanted  to  live  at 
ease  ;  that  the  beggar  was  very  well  off,  had  a  thousand 
dollars  in  the  bank,  his  board  cost  him  nothing,  and  he 
could  beg  enough  for  both  of  them.  Besides,  she  was 
nothing  but  a  beggar  herself,  for  she  could  not  get  work 
enough  to  support  herself,  her  child,  and  her  dogs.  As  he 
was  just  her  age,  forty-four,  she  thought  it  was  a  good 
match,  and  no  matter  what  other  people  might  say  she 
was  going  to  marry  him  and  not  do  any  more  work. 

The  course  of  true  love  does  not  always  run  smooth 
here  more  than  elsewhere.  A  man  who  had  been  some 
years  a  widower  engaged  to  marry  a  maiden  of  some 
forty-five  or  fifty  years.    It  seems  that  she  was  so  much 


t.vtin-rmimmtfimfess^-'- 


MARRIAGES   AND  FESTIVITIES. 


87 


pleased  at  the  prospect  that  she  went  about  telling  every 
one  of  it,  which  for  some  reason  or  other  displeased  him, 
and  he  broke  off  the  engagement.  They  settled  matters 
up  again  after  a  while  and  were  being  "  called "  in  the 
church  ;  but  the  priest  made  a  mistake  and  "  called  "  her 
to  the  wrong  man.  It  happened  to  be  a  dead  man,  so  one 
would  think  no  great  harm  had  been  done,  as  indeed  there 
had  not,  for  the  mistake  was  promptly  rectified.  How- 
ever, the  bridegroom  was  so  vexed  with  the  priest  that  he 
went  off  and  got  drunk,  at  which  she  became  angry  and 
broke  the  engagement  in  her  turn.  Shortly  afterward 
her  brother  was  taken  ill  and  died,  and  this  man  went  to 
the  funeral,  which  was  in  another  parish.  There  her 
father  was  taken  ill,  carried  home,  and  placed  on  the  bed 
from  which  his  son  had  just  been  removed.  The  man 
gave  so  much  assistance,  showed  so  much  sympathy,  and 
altogether  behaved  so  well,  that  she  forgave  his  delin- 
quencies. They  came  back  to  their  own  parish  Saturday 
night,  and  at  six  o'clock  Monday  morning  went  to  the 
church  by  themselves  and  were  married.  It  looks  as  if 
neither  party  was  inclined  to  risk  more  ruptures  of  the 
engagement. 

There  is  a  well-authenticated  story  of  a  man  of  wealth 
who  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  woman  of  something 
near  his  own  age,  and  who  bought  and  elegantly  furnished 
a  house  for  their  occupancy.  For  some  reason  unknown 
they  decided  not  to  marry,  but  they  went  together  to  the 
house,  packed  up  with  the  greatest  care  all  the  beautiful 
furniture  and  there  left  it.  She  remained  in  her  own 
rooms  and  he  took  small  rooms  elsewhere.  Every  after- 
noon for  thirty  years  and  more  he  called  at  a  certain  hour 
and  they  walked  out  together ;  and  once  a  week  she 
dressed  in  state  and  dined  with  him  at  his  rooms  or 
he  with  her  at  hers,  she  always  inviting  some  young  girl 


\  i 


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f-  ;  I 


\   I 


88 


MARRIAGES   AND  FESTIVITIES. 


to  act  as  chaperone.  One  day  he  was  taken  sick  and  did 
not  call.  She,  being  herself  ill  with  a  slijjht  cold,  wrote 
him  a  note.  He  died  the  next  day  with  her  note  in  his 
hand.  Less  than  a  month  later  she  died,  the  doctors  said 
from  grief,  as  she  had  no  disease.  The  great  house  with 
all  its  furnishings  remained  unoccupied  and  unused  until 
within  a  very  few  years. 

It  is  told  of  a  hunter  and  woodsman,  who  still  lives  in 
a  neighboring  parish,  that  he  made  arrangements  to  be 
married  on  Monday  (which  seems  to  be  a  favorite  time), 
and  on  Saturday  went  to  Quebec  to  purchase  his  outtit. 
He  met  so  many  friends  whom  it  was  necessary  to  treat, 
and  who  treated  him  so  much,  that  he  found  himself,  or 
rather  was  found,  late  in  the  afternoon,  very  drunk  and 
without  a  cent.  A  neighbor  took  him  home  in  a  sleigh ; 
but  the  neighbor  had  a  bottle,  and  Jean  had  to  be  put  to 
bed  more  drunk  than  ever.  He  went  to  sleep  and  did  not 
wake  up  enough  to  know  what  he  was  about  until  Sunday 
afternoon;  Then  he  realized  that  something  must  be 
done  or  his  marriage  would  be  a  failure  for  that  time 
sure.  He  took  his  gun  and  some  traps  and  went  away  to 
the  woods.  Before  daylight  he  returned  with  two  otter 
skins  on  his  back,  routed  up  a  village  shopkeeper  and 
sold  the  skins,  went  to  the  church,  and  was  on  hand  to  be 
married  according  to  the  programme.  1  believe  Jean  has 
lived  on  very  much  the  same  happy-go-lucky  plan  ever 
since. 

Not  all  weddings  here  in  Canada  are  so  simple  and  un- 
ceremonious as  those  1  have  mentioned.  Here  as  else- 
where, some  people  want  a  good  deal  of  parade,  and  others 
either  do  not  care  for  or  cannot  alTord  it. 

Years  ago  weddings  among  well-to-do  habitants  were, 
and  occasionally  are  now,  made  scenes  of  festivity  last- 
ing  several  days.      Practically   open    house  was  kept, 


I 
1 


MARRIAGES  AND  FESTIVITIES. 


S9 


sometimes  for  nearly  a  week.  The  amount  of  eating:, 
drinking,  and  dancing  done  was  prodigious.  Drinking, 
in  former  days,  was  more  general  and  heavier  than  now, 
and  fights  sometimes  occurred,  but  rarely  resulted  seri- 
ously.  The  Canadians  do  not  like  stand-up  pugilistic 
encounters  like  the  English,  or  rows  with  shillaly  like  the 
Irish.  Two  or  three  good  solid  blows  are  enough  to  settle 
almost  any  of  their  little  difficulties. 

My  family  was  once  unintentionally  the  means  of  turn- 
ing what  was  intended  to  be  a  very  quiet  wedding  into  a 
genuine  fete.  The  bride  was  an  amiable  and  estimable 
girl,  sister  to  our  man-of-all-work,  who  has  been  with  us 
for  several  years,  and  to  our  housemaid,  to  whom  my  wife 
and  daughters  are  much  attached.  The  whole  family  is 
greatly  respected  in  the  village.  To  please  our.  little  maid 
and  the  rest,  my  people  added  some  small  articles  to  the 
bride's  trousseau  and  then  prompted  me  to  offer  something 
more.  They  decided  that  nothing  would  give  everybody 
so  much  pleasure  as  a  chance  to  dance,  and  proposed  that 
1  should  provide  fiddlers  and  that  they  should  ive  an 
afternoon  tea.  We  secured  a  vacant  house  neat  by  and 
decorated  the  rooms  with  red  and  white  cotton  cloth. 
The  decorations  were  extremely  simple,  but  turned  out  to 
be  effective  and  were  greatly  admired. 

The  marriage  was  to  be  on  Tuesday,  and  the  two  mu- 
sicians, who  came  from  another  parish,  arrived  on  Monday 
afternoon.  After  refreshments  they  tuned  up  and  dancing 
began,  at  the  house  of  the  bride's  father.  It  was  kept  up 
until  eleven  p.  M.,  stopping  only  for  supper.  At  seven 
the  next  morning  the  wedding  took  place,  and  immedi- 
ately after  breakfast  dancing  was  resumed,  continuing 
till  noon. 

We  had  not  ourselves  intended  to  take  any  part  in  the 
festivities,  but  found  that  the  bride  would  feel  really  grat- 


M 


y  r 


H 


90 


MARRIAGES   AND  FESTIVITIES. 


|1 


ified  if  we  would  attend  the  dinner,  which  took  the  place  of 
the  usual  wedding  breakfast.  We  feared  we  should  be  an 
embarrassment,  but  so  much  was  said  and  the  invitation 
was  so  cordial,  that  we  consented,  and  finally  decided  that 
we  would  go  in  for  all  the  fun  that  was  going.  We  were 
given  the  most  distinguished  places  at  the  table,  next  the 
dame  d'bonneur,  who  was  no  dner  than  our  little  house- 
maid. I  must  say  that  she  was  the  life  of  the  occasion, 
and  carried  affairs  along  with  a  spirit  and  vigor  that  we 
had  often  suspected  was  in  her  but  had  never  seen  before. 
At  our  house  she  is  extremely  quiet  and  demure,  but  at 
the  wedding  she  evidently  let  herself  loose  and  things  had 
to  go  the  way  she  wanted  them. 

The  dinner  was  set  in  the  kitchen  of  the  farm-house, 
and  was  not  very  different  from  the  usual  farmer's  fare, 
but  was  good  ana  abundant.  There  were  no  liquors — the 
whole  family  being  temperance  people — but  we  drank  the 
bride's  health  in  tea  so  strong  it  almost  made  my  head 
swim.    She  was  pleased  and  everybody  wis  merry. 

When  the  tlrst  party  had  finished  their  repast — for  the 
tables  had  to  be  set  twice  more  before  all  were  satisfied — 
the  doctor  of  the  village  got  up  and  made  a  neat  speech 
that  must  have  cost  him  some  trouble  to  prepare.  There 
was  no  regular  reply,  for  the  bridegroom  evidently  had  no 
taste  for  speech-making,  and  no  one  else  thought  it  his 
duty,  so  we  contented  ourselves  with  vigorously  applaud- 
ing the  doctor's  sentiments. 

By  two  o'clock  all  had  been  fed,  and  adjournment  was 
made  to  the  rooms  we  had  prepared.  After  a  few  min- 
utes spent  in  commenting  on  our  decorations  all  hands 
speedily  settled  to  business.  My  wife  and  daughters 
hunted  me  up  and  insisted  that  it  was  my  duty  to  open 
the  dance  with  the  bride,  which  I  did.  And  more  than 
that,  I  kept  on  till  I  think  1  must  have  danced  with  nearly 


MARRIAGES   AND   FESTIVITIES. 


91 


all  her  family,  I  had  n't  danced  so  much  in  twenty  years. 
My  family  said  they  had  no  idea  there  was  so  much  dance 
left  in  me.    It  was  lots  of  fun. 

The  dances  were  quadrilles  and  cotillions,  with  an  occa- 
sional jig,  round  dances  being  forbidden.  Men  did  not 
take  their  partners  round  the  waist,  but  by  their  elbows. 
1  made  two  or  three  mistakes  about  that,  but  was  gently 
reminded  that  the  Canadian  fashion  was  considered  more 
proper.  Those  cotillions  made  me  perspire.  There  was 
one  girl  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  who  weighed,  I  think, 
about  as  much  as  I  did,  who  always  seemed  to  want  to 
turn  round  twice  to  my  once.  One  dance  with  her  was 
enough.  I  think  there  was  not  a  dry  thread  on  me  when 
it  was  over. 

The  two  tiddlers  did  not  play  together,  but  when  one 
stopped  the  other  commenced,  and  the  intervals  between 
dances  were  very  short.  It  was  a  case  of  "  one  down 
another  come  on  "  all  the  afternoon.  The  dancing  was 
lively  and  vigorous,  but  not  rude  or  rough  in  the  least. 
There  was  not  much  formality,  but  perfect  propriety. 
Only  one  man  appeared  to  have  taken  privately  a  little 
more  drink  than  was  good  for  him,  and  he  was  only  silly. 
He  was  induced  to  go  home  for  something  and  did  not 
get  back. 

A  little  incident  at  one  time  promised  to  disturb  the 
harmony,  but  it  was  soon  over  and  few  persons  knew  any- 
thing about  it.  A  rejected  suitor  appeared  outside  the 
house  in  an  excited  condition,  vowing  vengeance  on  the 
bride  and  threatening  bodily  injury  to  the  groom.  Two 
of  the  lady's  brothers  went  out  and  administered  some 
very  forcible  language  to  the  young  man,  and  one  of  them 
emphasized  his  remarks  with  a  good  claque  on  the  side  of 
the  head,  whereon  he  got  into  his  cariole  and  drove  away. 

Dancing  and  refreshments  continued  until  six  without 


I 


I 


II 


92 


MARRIAGES  AND  FESTIVITIES. 


Ihi 


interruption.  I  was  smoking  a  quiet  pipe  in  one  of  the 
rooms  when  somebody  called  me  out.  I  found  the  guests 
assembled  in  the  dancing-room,  and  the  schoolmaster 
stepped  out  and  read  a  very  neatly  written  address  which 
should  have  been  made  to  my  wife  and  daughters  instead  of 
to  me,  for  1  had  had  very  little  to  do  with  the  affair  except 
to  pay  the  tiddlers.  1  was  a  good  deal  nonplussed  at  first, 
but  managed  to  say  that  we  were  very  much  obliged  to 
the  people  for  their  compliments  and  glad  they  had  en- 
joyed themselves.  I  got  out  of  that  function  in  short 
metre,  and  on  the  whole,  very  easily. 

Then  everybody  went  to  supper  and  afterwards  danced 
till  five  the  next  morning.  I  dropped  into  the  house  for 
a  few  minutes  in  the  evening  and  found  everything  in  full 
blast.  Two  rooms  were  made  available,  with  a  fiddler  in 
each.  While  a  set  was  dancing  in  one  room  another  was 
being  made  up  in  the  other  one,  so  that  there  were  abso- 
lutely no  waits  at  all.  The  non-dancers  played  cards  and 
sang  in  another  room  without  disturbing  the  others  in  the 
least.  I  went  home  and  to  bed,  but  when  1  went  back  to 
the  village  about  ten  o'clock  next  morning  1  heard  the 
fiddles  going  again,  and  they  did  not  stop  till  dinner  time. 

At  two  o'clock  the  young  couple  started  for  their  new 
home,  thirty  miles  away,  escorted  by  several  sleigh-loads 
of  relatives  and  friends.  Arrived  there,  they  found  fresh 
fiddlers  on  hand  and  fifty  or  more  neighbors  assembled,  so 
there  was  almost  continuous  dancing  again  till  noon  of  the 
following  day.  Our  little  maid,  who  was  of  the  escorting 
party,  came  back  at  about  sunset  with  feet  so  swollen  that 
she  could  get  no  shoes  on  and  was  obliged  to  shuffle  round 
the  house  for  three  or  four  days  in  a  pair  of  old  over- 
stockings. When  she  told  her  story  1  wished  1  had  a  copy 
of  the  well-known  picture  entitled  "  Entin  Seuls"  to  send 
to  the  nouveaux  marih,  I  am  sure  they  would  have 
appreciated  it, 


r 


MARRIAGES  AND  FESTIVITIES. 


93 


■ 


We  were  quite  satisfied  with  our  success.  At  small  ex- 
pense to  ourselves  we  had  given  pleasure  to  a  good  many 
people  and  had  assisted  at  a  genuinely  Canadian  wedding. 
It  v/as  frankly  and  honestly  simple,  dignified  and  decorous 
and  had  been  enjoyed  with  true  Canadian  lighthearted- 
ness. 

It  added  greatly  to  our  pleasure  that  our  faithful  Na- 
zaire  was  present  and  was  made  much  of,  to  his  mingled 
delight  and  embarrassment.  He  had  come  to  see  me  on 
business  and  to  resign  on  the  twentieth  anniversary  of  his 
engagement  in  our  service  and  on  account  of  advancing 
years,  the  position  he  had  so  long  and  honorably  filled. 
As  soon  as  it  was  known  that  he  was  in  the  village  the 
bride's  family  insisted  that  he  should  be  of  the  wedding 
party.  He  was  known  to  most  of  the  people  and  it  did 
not  take  long  for  the  others  to  make  his  acquaintance. 
Whenever  I  caught  sight  of  him  he  was  surrounded  by  a 
group  of  attenti^'e  listeners.  Added  years  have  subtracted 
nothing  from  his  loquacity,  and  1  suspect  our  adventures 
and  experience  together  in  the  woods  formed  the  basis  of 
much  of  his  conversation.  1  am  glad  1  was  not  called  on 
to  vouch  for  his  stories,  for  I  am  rather  afraid  his  memory 
has  grown  astigmatic  of  late.  He  was  greatly  distressed 
because  he  was  not  dressed  for  a  wedding.  1  assured  him 
that  it  was  not  of  the  slightest  consequence  and  that  he 
looked  as  well  as  any  of  us.  Privately  1  was  glad  of  it, 
for  io  me  his  honest,  rugged  features  show  better  our.  of 
h(.n)espun  than  c;,:  of  store  clothes.  But  no  one,  not 
even  the  >-ride  nor  :ny  daughters,  could  induce  him  to 
dance.  I  was  awfully  sorry,  for  1  think  he  would  have 
shown  us  some  steps  that  are  not  taught  by  dancing 
masters  now-a-days. 

Good  old  Nazaire!     He  went  home  by  the  midnight 


>!h 


8 


ii, 


94 


MARRIAGES   AND  FESTIVITIES. 


train,  assuring  me  that  he  should  never  forget  or  regret 
his  visit. 

The  habitant  is  extremely  fond  of  everything  that  has  the 
air  of  a  fete,  and  one  other  little  lark  which  we  have  had 
with  our  habitant  neighbors  is  as  characteristic  as  the  wed- 
ding just  described.  It  was  no  longer  ago  than  last  summer. 
Our  neighbors  could  never  understand  why  we  liked 
so  much  to  go  to  Lake  Clair.  They  thought  there  was 
nothing  we  could  do  there  but  catch  and  eat  fish.  We 
wanted  to  give  some  of  them  an  entertainment,  so  we  in- 
vited twenty-five  or  thirty  to  make  a  picnic  at  the  lake, 
stopping  there  over  one  night.  A  goodly  number  came, 
fathers  and  mothers,  young  men  and  maidens.  I  think  a 
merrier  lot  of  people  was  never  brought  together.  They 
were  like  a  lot  of  children  let  out  of  school.  They  ran, 
raced,  sang,  shouted  and  played  tricks  on  each  other  with 
as  much  glee  and  zest  as  if  they  had  never  had  a  care  in 


MARRIAGES   AND   FESTIVITIES. 


95 


their  lives;  and  all  without  a  particle  of  objectionable 
rudeness. 

Their  greatest  delight,  however,  was  in  the  boating. 
All  our  water  craft  of  course  were  at  their  service,  and  as 
they  were  quite  safe  I  had  no  anxiety  except  to  be  a  little 
careful  as  to  who  went  out  in  the  smaller  canoes.  As  it 
was  there  was  not  the  slightest  mishap  except  that  the 
only  expert  canoeman  in  the  party  managed  to  tip  him- 
self over  without  the  least  excuse.  One  more  laugh,  a 
little  more  uproarious  than  the  others,  was  the  only  notice- 
able result. 

In  the  evening  we  had  a  procession  of  boats  and  canoes 
with  torches,  and  afterwards  fireworks,  and  tableaux  with 
colored  lights,  which  were  very  pretty,  being  arranged  so 
as  to  appear  as  if  on  the  water.  The  weather  was  perfect 
and  the  lake  like  a  mirror.  There  was  one  tableau  that 
was  quite  striking.  After  a  brilliant  illumination  and 
while  eyes  were  still  a  little  dazzled  a  figure  in  white  ap- 
peared, gliding  gently  over  the  water  without  any  visible 
means  of  propulsion.  She  was  poised  high  on  the  bow 
of  a  canoe  large  enough  to  be  steady,  and  with  red, 
white  or  blue  lights  burning  behind  her  she  appeared  in 
a  kind  of  halo,  and  the  canoe,  paddled  noiselessly  along, 
was  not  seen.  Some  exclaimed  "  Le  d-i-a-b-l-e-est  de- 
dans!'' (the  devil  is  in  it)  with  the  peculiar  intonation 
often  given  to  the  expression.  It  was  only  an  indication 
of  wonder  and  delight  and  not  of  opinion  that  his  satanic 
majesty  had  anything  to  do  with  it. 

When  all  these  things  were  done  and  a  lot  of  songs  had 
been  sung  1  thought  it  was  time  for  folks  to  go  to  bed, 
but  my  friends  apparently  had  no  such  views.  When  the 
assembly  broke  up  they  nearly  all  went  ofT  by  twos, 
threes  and  tours  in  boats  and  canoes  and  in  a  few  minutes 


I 


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1 

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'1 

lil 


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11 ' 


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^ 


l^i 


i 


96 


MARRIAGES   AND  FESTIVITIES. 


were  scattered  all  over  the  lake,  some  singing  and  some 
only  chaffing  the  rest. 

There  was  one  quite  old  man,  much  bent  up  with  rheu- 
matism and  so  generally  feeble  that  I  wondered  how  he 
ever  reached  the  lake,  whom  1  thought  ought  to  be  looked 
after.  1  told  one  of  his  sons  that  he  ought  to  get  the  old 
man  in  and  put  him  nicely  to  bed.  He  went  to  look  for 
him  and  found  he  had  gone  away  to  the  other  side  of  the 
lake  with  a  boat-load  of  young  folks,  and  apparently  had 
no  thought  of  going  to  bed  at  all. 

We  had  provided  comfortable  beds  for  all  the  women 
and  set  up  two  tents  with  plenty  of  branches  for  the  men 
whom  we  could  not  accommodate  otherwise  ;  but  a  few 
of  the  young  women  were  determined  that  they  would 
sleep  in  a  tent  for  once  in  their  lives  now  that  they  had 
the  chance,  so  they  took  possession  of  one,  got  their  fathers 
to  occupy  the  other  to  chaperon  them,  and  told  the  other 
men  they  might  go  and  sleep  wherever  they  could.  1 
heard  it  intimated  next  morning  that  not  much  sleeping 
was  done  in  either  tent  that  night;  but  as  everybody  was 
happy  and  jolly  over  it  that  did  not  much  matter. 

Everybody  was  out  bright  and  early  and  after  a  fore- 
noon spent  in  boating  and  visiting  points  of  interest, 
started  for  home,  a  five  hours'  drive,  in  great  spirits.  For 
a  week  afterwards  there  was  not  much  talked  about  in 
our  village  but  the  Canadian  picnic  at  Lake  Clair. 

The  fun  of  it  all  for  us  was  in  seeing  the  pleasure  the 
people  took  in  everything  they  saw  or  did  and  their  hearty 
abandon.  It  is  great  sport  to  get  up  such  things  for 
people  to  whom  they  are  all  new  and  strange ;  but  who, 
while  not  critical,  have  intelligence  to  appreciate  them 
fairly  well. 

We  were  quite  struck  with  the  good  looks  of  most  of 
our  party,  of  the  men  particularly.    Nearly  all  had  good 


MARRIAGES  AND  FESTIVITIES. 


91 


features  and  very  good  figures.  Possibly  this  lot  happened 
to  be  a  little  above  the  average,  but  we  consider  the 
Canadians  in  general  to  be  rather  a  handsome  race.  We 
see  a  good  many  children,  little  girls  especially,  that  are 
very  lovely.  As  women,  with  their  large  families  and 
hard  work,  they  are  apt  to  fade  early. 


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THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM 


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THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM 


Until  quite  recent  times  tiie  whole  of  the  settled,  and 
much  of  the  unsettled,  part  of  Canada  was  held  under  feudal 
tenure.  The  seigneurs  held  grants  of  land  from  the  Crown 
on  the  simple  condition  of  faith  and  homage.  These  grants, 
however,  were  liable  to  be  changed  or  revoked  or  new  con- 
ditions imposed  at  the  will  of  the  sovereign.  "  For  such 
is  our  pleasure  "  was  the  only  reason  necessary  to  be  given 
by  the  king.  These  tracts  were  divided  by  the  seigneurs 
into  farms  of  convenient  size,  usually  four  arpents  of  192 
English  feet  each  in  front  by  forty  arpents  in  depth,  which 
were  conceded  (leased)  at  a  perpetual  rental,  besides  other 
obligations,  of  which  more  hereafter. 

As  the  river  was  the  great  highway  in  summer,  and 
sometimes  offered  the  most  available  roadway  in  winter, 
and  as  the  best  land  lay  along  its  banks,  the  seigneuries 
bordering  on  it  were  made  narrow  in  front  and  extending 
back  to  a  considerable  depth.  The  farm-lands  being  laid 
out  on  the  same  plan  gave  to  each  tenant  the  privilege  of 
fishing  in  the  St.  Lawrence  and  cultivating  a  certain 
amount  of  excellent  land  on  its  banks  with  sufficient 
pasture  and  wood-land  farther  back. 

Sub-divisions  of  these  farms  were,  and  still  are,  made  on 
the  same  system,  so  that  we  may  often  hear  a  man  say 
that  he  has  an  arpent  or  two  arpents  of  land,  meaning  that 
he  has  one  or  two  arpents  of  front  by  forty  arpents  in 
depth.    This  method  of  dividing  lots  accounts  for  the 


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102 


THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM. 


long,  narrow  strips  of  land  with  their  apparently  intermi- 
nable fences  that  so  constantly  meet  the  eye  of  the  trav- 
eller. 

This  plan  offered  several  advantages  to  the  settlers,  such 
as  the  making  of  roads,  social  intercourse,  and,  most  of  all, 
prompt  mutual  help  against  the  attacks  of  the  savages. 
The  same  system  extended  to  the  lands  in  the  rear  when 
those  on  the  river  bank  had  all  been  conceded.  It  is  only 
in  comparatively  modern  times,  since  the  Conquest  in 
fact,  that  lands  far  from  the  St.  Lawrence  have  been  con- 
sidered of  any  great  value ;  and  only  as  the  growth  of  the 
population  has  forced  the  younger  generations  to  occupy 
them  have  they  been  brought  under  cultivation. 

This  system  also  has  made  the  main  road  from  Quebec 
to  Montreal  almost  a  continuous  village,  more  densely 
peopled  in  the  vicinity  of  the  churches,  but  still  closely 
settled  nearly  all  the  way. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century  the  rental 
of  these  farms,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Quebec,  may  be 
reckoned  at  about  "  twenty  sous  and  a  good  live  capon  " 
for  each  arpent  of  front,  or  eighty  sous  and  four  capons 
for  a  farm  of  not  far  from  one  hundred  and  thirty  Eng- 
lish acres.  The  amount  seems  absurdly  small,  although 
money  was  worth  nearly,  or  quite,  five  times  as  much  as 
now. 

Aside  from  the  rent  the  other  obligations  of  the  tenant 
do  not  appear  to  have  been  burdensome,  and  were  doubt- 
less cheerfully  met.  The  seigneurs  as  a  rule  lived  among 
their  tenants,  and  shared  both  good  and  evil  fortunes  with 
them.  Until  the  latter  part  of  the  century  it  would  seem 
that  there  was  little  good  and  much  hard  fortune  for  both. 

M.  de  Gaspe,  in  the  "  Canadians  of  Old,"  gives  us  an 
excellent  idea  of  the  relations  of  the  tenants  to  the  seign- 
eurs.   It  is  a  pity  we  have  not  more  of  the  same  kind  of 


. 


tHE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM. 


103 


history  and  from  an  earlier  date.  That  there  was  great 
mutual  attachment  and  good  will  between  them  is  certain, 
and  we  have  no  reason  to  think  M.  de  Gaspe  at  all  exag- 
gerates them.  The  planting  of  the  May  pole,  which  he 
describes,  however,  1  am  sorry  to  tind  was  not  the  spon- 
taneous ortering  of  the  people.  I  had  supposed  it  was  all 
done  of  their  own  free  will ;  but  I  tind  it  was  obligatory, 
imposed  by  their  deeds  of  concession  of  lands. 

A  book  publisiied  in  London  in  1(S1S  by  Joseph  Bou- 
chette,  formerly  Surveyor-General  of  Canada,  gives  a 
resume  of  the  conditions  of  the  concessions  or  perpetual 
leases,  which  I  cannot  do  better  than  quote  for  those  who 
would  like  to  know  more  of  this  peculiar  tenure.  This 
book,  now  out  of  print,  gives  the  dates  of  grants,  names 
of  grantees,  and  some  remarks  about  each  seigneury.  It 
is  interesting  to  notice  how  little  was  then  known,  even 
by  its  general  surveyor,  of  the  interior  of  the  country,  as 
well  as  the  progress  Canada  has  made  "  within  the  mem- 
ory of  men  still  living."  The  writer  of  it  was  apparently 
born  about  the  time  of  the  Conquest  and  wrote  toward 
the  end  of  the  second  war  between  the  United  States  and 
Great  Britain.  His  confidence  in  the  future  of  Canada  is 
unbounded,  and  his  loyalty  to  British  institutions  fully  as 
great  as  that  of  his  countrymen  of  today.  His  disparage- 
ment  of  the  United  States  and  all  that  belongs  to  them  is 
mildly  amusing. 

Mr.  Bouchette  says : 

At  the  time  tliis  countrv  fell  iiiider  the  Enjjlish  government  the 
feudal  system  universally  prevailed  in  the  tenure  of  lands,  and 
still  Continues  with  respect  to  such  as  were  then  jjranted;  but  the 
townships  and  tracts  disposed  of  by  tiie  British  administration  have 
been  granted  in  free  and  common  socage,  only  two  or  three  in- 
stances to  the  contrary  being  known. 

By  the  ancient  custom  of  Canada  lands  were  held  immediately 
from  the  king  en  Jicf,  or  en  roture,  on  condition  of  rendering  fealty 


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104 


THE  FEUDAL   SYSTEM. 


.n 


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■lit 

jlil 

1; 

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and  Iioma.c:e  on  accession  to  the  seigni(.)rial  property,  and  in  the 
event  of  a  transfer  thereof  by  sale  or  otherwise,  except  in  hereditary 
succession,  it  was  subject  to  the  payment  of  a  qiiiitt,  or  the  fifth  of 
the  whole  purchase  money,  and  which  if  paid  by  the  purchaser  im- 
mediately entitled  him  to  the  rebat,  or  a  reduction  of  two-thirds  of 
the  qtihit.    This  custom  still  prevails. 

The  tenanciers,  or  holders  of  lands  en  rotiire,  are  subject  to  some 
particular  conditions,  but  they  are  not  at  all  burdensome.  For  in- 
stance, they  pay  a  small  annual  rent,  usually  between  2s.  6d.  and  5s., 
(though  in  many  seigniories  the  rents  of  the  new  concessions  have 
been  considerably  increased,)  to  this  is  added  some  article  of  pro- 
vision, such  as  a  couple  of  fowls,  a  goose,  or  a  bushel  of  wheat,  or 
something  else  of  domestic  consumption,  and  they  are  also  bound 
to  grind  Iheir  corn  at  i\\f  inoiiliii  banal,''  or  the  seigneur's  mill, 
where  one-fourteenth  part  of  it  is  taken  for  his  use  as  moiilure  (or 
toll  for  grinding),  to  repair  the  higiuvays  and  by-roads  through 
their  lands,  and  to  make  new  ones,  which  when  opened  must  be 
surveyed  and  approved  by  the  grand  voyeur  of  the  district,  and  es- 
tablished by  proch  verbal. 

Lands  are  sometimes  held  by  bail  amphiteoUqiie,  or  a  long  lease 
of  20,  30,  50,  or  any  number  of  years,  subject  to  a  very  small  rent 
only.  Franc  alien  is  a  freehold,  under  which  lands  are  exempt  from 
all  rights  or  duties  to  seigneurs,  acknowledging  no  lord  but  the  king. 
Cencive  is  a  feudal  tenure,  subject  to  an  annual  rent  paid  either  in 
money  or  produce. 

The  seigneurs,  by  the  old  laws  that  have  not  been  repealed,  are 
entitled  to  constitute  courts  and  preside  as  judges  therein,  in  what 
is  denominated  hanle  el  basse  Justice,  which  takes  cognizance  of  all 
crimes  committed  within  their  jurisdiction  except  murder  and 
treason.  This  privilege  has  lain  dormant  ever  since  the  Conquest 
nor  is  it  probable  tiiat  it  will  be  revived  as  such  ample  provision  is 
now  made  for  the  regular  administration  of  the  laws. 

The  lods  et  vcntes  con.stitute  a  part  of  the  seigneur's  revenue.  It 
is  the  right  to  a  twelfth  part  of  the  purchase  money  of  every  estate 
within  his  seigniory  that  changes  the  owner  by  sale  or  other  means 
equivalent  to  a  sale.  This  twelfth  is  to  be  paid  by  the  purchaser, 
and  is  exclusive  of  the  sum  agreed  upon  between  him  and  the  seller. 
For  prompt  payment  of  it  a  reduction  of  a  fourth  part  is  usually 
made.  In  cases  of  a  sale  of  this  nature  the  lord  possesses  the  droit 
de  relrait,  which  is  the  privilege  of  pre-emption  at  tiie  highest  bidden 


THE   FEUDAL   SYSTEM. 


105 


price  within  furty  days  after  tlie  sale  lias  taken  place.  It  is,  how- 
ever, a  priviie^^e  Init  seldom  exercised. 

All  the  lisheries  within  a  seigniory  contribute  to  increase  the 
proprietor's  revenue  as  lie  receives  tithes  of  all  the  iish  caujjht  or  an 
equivalent  sum.  Besides  these  rights  he  is  privileged  to  fell  timber 
anywhere  witliin  his  seiiiniory  for  erecting'  mills,  repairing  roads  or 
constructing  new  ones,  or  other  works  of  public  or  general  utility. 
Many  proprietors  of  seigniories  have  become  very  wealthy  from 
their  revenues,  as  the  sales  and  e.xchanges  of  estates  have  been  of 
late  years  very  numerous. 

Lands  held  by  Roman  Catholics  under  any  of  the  aforementioned 
tenures  are  further  subject  to  the  payment  to  their  curates  of  one- 
twenty-sixth  part  of  all  grain  produced  upon  them,  and  to  occa- 
sional assessments  for  building  and  repairing  churches,  parsonage 
houses,  or  other  works  belonging  to  the  church.  The  remainder  of 
the  granted  lands  within  the  Province  not  held  under  any  of  these 
tenures  are  in  free  and  common  socage,  from  which  a  reservation  of 
two-sevenths  is  made;  one  thereof  is  appropriated  to  the  crown, 
and  the  other  set  apart  for  the  maintenance  and  support  of  the  prot- 
estant  clergy. 


All  these  rit^hts  of  the  seigneurs,  together  with  many 
other  so-called  rights  that  were  unwritten,  existing  only 
through  customs  originating  in  the  Middle  Ages,  or  in  the 
times  when  subjects  were  merely  serfs,  continued  in  force 
up  to  1854,  although  few  of  their  objecl  jnable  claims  ever 
obtained  much  footing  in  this  country.  The  rights  of  the 
seigneurs  were  so  unfavorable  to  the  prosperity  of  the 
Province  that  a  commission  was  appointed  in  1853  to  pre- 
pare a  plan  for  their  commutation.  This  commission  was 
probably  the  most  talented  and  distinguished  body  of  men 
ever  brought  together  in  Canada,  and  the  work  done  by  it 
was  a  great  one.  The  seigneurs  were  shorn  of  any  unjust 
pretentions  and  recompensed  for  those  legal  rights  of  which 
it  was  thought  best  to  deprive  them.  The  tenant  was  al- 
lowed to  commute  his  rental  on  reasonable  terms  and  be- 
come actual  proprietor,  in  fee  simple,  of  his  holdings. 


.J 


■(  I 


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m 


if 

1. 


106 


THE   FEUDAL   SYSTEM. 


The  arrangement  was  generally  satisfactory  to  all.  The 
far  greater  part  of  the  conceded  properties  have  been  thus 
commuted ;  but  there  are  some  that  still  pay  the  old  rent 
— money,  fowls,  etc.  Very  few  seigneuries  now  remain 
in  the  families  of  the  original  grantees  ;  perhaps  not  more 
than  five  or  six  in  the  Province. 

French  kings  had  long  endeavored  to  limit  the  powers 
of  the  nobles,  and  in  New  France  all  things  conspired  to 
prevent  the  exercise  of  unjust  practices,  in  fact  it  does 
not  appear  that  many  Canadian  seigneurs  were  disposed 
to  make  much  use  of  such,  although  there  were  no  doubt 
great  differences  among  them  in  this  respect.  I  have 
heard  of  one  who,  even  in  modern  times,  claimed  that  he 
had  the  first  right  to  everything  within  the  limits  of  his 
seigneury. 

Learning  that  I  wished  to  know  something  more  of  the 
relations  of  seigneur  and  tenant,  a  friend  placed  in  my 
hands  a  "  Ttaite  des  Fiefs"  in  seven  large  volumes.  It 
was  published  in  Paris  in  1749,  and  is  a  complete  digest 
of  all  the  laws,  edicts  and  decisions  concerning  the  matter 
down  to  that  time. 

1  found  this  treatise  extremely  curious  and  interesting, 
although  bearing  but  slightly  on  feudalism  in  Canada. 
Scores  of  points  that  now  seem  to  us  utterly  trifling  and 
unimportant  are  treated  in  the  most  serious  and  minute 
manner.  The  long  discussions  and  arguments  help  to 
show  how  poorly  defined  were  the  powers  of  the  nobles 
in  ancient  times.  In  some  parts  of  France  written  laws 
prevailed  and  in  other  parts  ancient  customs,  some  of  them 
dating  from  the  loth  century,  formed  the  only  law.  On 
one  point  the  author  cites  no  less  than  seventy-five  differ- 
ent  customs.  The  "droit  de  corvee,''  which  in  Canada 
was  limited  to  the  rig^it  of  the  seigneur  to  compel  his  ten- 
ants to  work  on  roads  or  other  works  of  public  utility, 


\ii 


t     { 


THE   FEUDAL   SYSTEM. 


107 


and  the  right  of  "banalife,"  which  in  Canada  was  reduced 
to  the  obligation  to  bring  ail  grain  to  the  seigneurial  mill 
to  be  ground,  are  carefully  and  exhaustively  discussed. 

In  France,  a  renewal  of  faith  and  homage  which,  as 
this  author  says  "  is  the  essence  of  a  tief,"  was  due  from 
the  seigneur  to  the  sovereign  at  every  change  in  the  suc- 
cession on  the  one  side  or  the  other ;  the  noble  must  ac- 
knowledge allegiance  to  the  monarch  on  his  accession  to 
the  throne,  as  well  as  on  his  own  succession  to  new  rank. 
The  tenant,  always  called  "  vassal "  by  this  author,  must 
offer  faith  and  homage  to  his  seigneur  upon  every  newly- 
acquired  title  on  his  own  part,  whether  by  purchase,  in- 
heritance or  otherwise.  In  Canada  the  seigneurs  tendered 
faith  and  homage  to  the  representative  of  the  king  on  his 
arrival  in  the  country,  presenting  at  the  same  time  decla- 
rations of  titles. 

In  Canada,  the  tenant  was  under  no  obligation  to  mill- 
tary  service  towards  his  seigneur,  while  in  France  he  might 
be  obliged,  under  one  form  of  allegiance,  to  serve  his 
master  personally,  at  his  own  expense,  as  long  as  the  war 
might  last ;  under  another  he  would  be  bound  to  serve  in 
the  same  manner  for  forty  days.  After  that  he  might 
send  a  horseman  in  his  place. 

The  best  short  account  of  feudal  customs  in  Canada 
that  I  know  of  is  that  given  by  Parkman  in  chap,  xv  of 
"The  Old  Regime  in  Canada." 

I  have  in  my  possession  a  deed  dated  June  19th,  1694, 
conceding  a  lot  of  land  of  three  arpents  in  front  by  forty 
in  depth  in  consideration  of  twenty  sous  and  one  good 
live  capon,  or  twenty  sous  for  the  value  thereof  at  the 
pleasure  of  the  seigneur,  for  each  arpent  of  front,  and  one 
sous  of  ceiis,  payable  at  the  principal  manor-house  of  the 
seigneury  on  St.  Martin's  day  in  each  year  so  long  as  the 
grantee  shall  occupy  the  land. 


if^; 


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'4  i 


(':. 


, 

'f 


ty 


I 


108 


THE  FEUDAL   SYSTEM. 


The  tenant  is  to  help  to  maintain  such  roads  as  may  he 
deemed  necessary  for  public  use,  "  tenir  feu  et  lien  "  (live 
on  the  premises),  bring  his  grain  to  the  seigneur's  mill 
to  be  ground,  aid  the  other  habitants  to  plant  on  the 
first  day  of  May  in  each  year  a  May  pole  in  front  of 
the  principal  door  of  the  manor-house,  and  to  pay  to  the 
seigneur  one-fifteenth  of  all  fish  caught  in  the  St.  Law- 
rence in  front  of  the  land  (he  having  the  right  to  hunt  and 
tlsh  over  and  in  front  of  it),  *  *  *  and  to  be  "subject 
to  cens  et  rentes  carrying  with  them  the  lod:^  et  ventes 
according  to  the  custom  of  Paris." 

The  giving  of  this  deed  would  seem  to  have  been  a  vol- 
untary act  on  the  part  of  the  seigneur,  for  the  grantee  was 
not  present  when  it  was  made,  and  the  notary  only  ac- 
cepts it  in  his  name  "  in  case  it  should  be  agreeable  to 
him." 

The  rent  and  other  charges  were  doubtless  commuted 
under  the  act  of  1854,  and  the  owner  now  holds  in  fee 
simple,  free  from  ceiis  et  rentes,  lots  et  ventes,  and  all  the 
rest  of  it.  He  can  now  get  his  grain  ground  where  he 
likes  and  is  free  to  eat  all  the  fish  he  can  catch. 

The  front  line  of  the  lot  described  extended  three  ar- 
pents  along  the  shore  of  the  River  St.  Lawrence  and  its 
side  lines  were  those  that  separated  it  from  its  neighbors, 
but  its  rear  boundary  was  probably  still  in  the  primeval 
forest. 

When  this  deed  was  made,  Quebec,  although  the  seat 
of  civil,  military  and  religious  government  for  the  whole 
of  Canada,  was  only  a  small  station,  and  the  entire  popu- 
lation of  the  colony  could  not  have  exceeded  12,000  souls. 
(A  census  taken  in  1681  made  it  9,781.) 

Sturdy  old  Count  Frontenac  was  Governor,  Louis  XIV 
was  King  of  France,  and  William  of  Orange  King  of  Eng- 
land. 


i 


( 


I 


F 


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i*%-i 


J 


m 


!'/: 


I« 


THE   FEUDAL   SYSTEM. 


109 


In  that  same  year  bands  of  treacherous  savages  and  no 
less  savage  Canadians  were  murdering  settlers  all  alo.  < 
the  New  England  frontier.  Parkman  tells  us  all  about 
it,  and  how  at  Durham,  near  Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  a  hun- 
dred and  four  persons,  mostly  women  and  children,  were 
tomahawked  and  scalped,  and  how  a  French  officer  says 
that  his  Indian  allies  intended  to  "  divide  up  into  par- 
ties  of  four  or  five  and  knock  people  on  the  head  by  sur- 
prise, wbiih  ill  11  not  fail  to  have  a  good  effect." 

This  was  the  character  of  the  warfare  carried  on  by  the 
French  and  Indians,  aided,  excited  and  continually  encour- 
aged by  priests  and  missionaries. 

Although  many  seigneuries  had  been  granted  along  the 
River  St.  l.awrence  and  a  considerable  number  of  farms 
conceded,  yet  the  number  of  habitants  actually  occupying 
their  lands  must  have  been  very  small.  Many  of  them 
had  been  drafted  into  the  militia  and  were  serving  on  mil- 
itary expeditions,  largely  under  the  command  of  their 
seigneurs.  Others,  reckless,  venturesome  and  impatient  of 
all  restraint,  had  taken  to  the  woods  in  company  with  con- 
genial spirits  from  the  ranks  of  the  noblesse  and  became 
coureurs  de  bois,  hunting,  trading  and  fighting  on  their 
own  account,  defying  control  either  of  Church  or  State, 

The  seigneurs  were  not  as  a  rule  men  of  wealth  and 
their  manor-houses  were  usually  unpretentious,  probably 
much  of  the  character  of  a  Canadian  farm-house  of  good 
class  of  the  present  day,  having  one  or  two  large  rooms, 
while  the  chambers  were  small  and  low.  In  many  cases 
the  house,  as  well  as  stables,  storehouses  and  workshops, 
was  surrounded  with  palisades,  and  the  whole  arranged  to 
serve  as  a  place  of  refuge  and  defense  from  savages.  A 
chapel  was  sometimes  also  within  the  enclosure  when  not 
included  in  the  house  itself. 

Some  establishments,  however,  were  of  greater  preten- 


I 


"       i; 


«' 


iii  i'ly 


no 


THE   FEUDAL   SYSTEM. 


tlons,  as  for  instance,  that  of  the  Seigneury  of  Longueil, 
which  was  built  of  stone,  the  whole  enclosure  covering;  a 
space  of  170  by  270  feet,  it  was  doubtless  modelled  after 
an  old  French  chateau  and  by  its  extent  and  imposing  ap- 
pearance gained  for  the  seigneur  the  title  of  Baron.  It 
was  destroyed  by  fire  before  1699,  and  a  church  was  built 
on  its  site,  and  in  part  of  tl^e  same  materials,  at  about  that 
date.* 

Some  of  the  seigneuries  were  of  great  extent.  That  of 
Beaupre',  granted  in  I636,  contained  695,704  arpents,  or 
about  900  square  miles. 

The  most  valuable  was  that  of  the  island  of  Montreal, 
a  greater  part  of  which  was  first  granted  in  1640  to  two 
persons  named  Cherrier  and  Le  Royer.  Whether  they 
disposed  of  it,  or  whether  it  was  for  some  reason  forfeited 
to  the  crown,  there  is  no  record  to  show.  It  passed  in 
1664  from  the  Sulpitians  of  Paris  to  the  Seminary  of  St. 
Sulpice  in  Montreal,  to  which  the  titles  were  confirmed  by 
the  king  in  1714,  so  that  the  Seminary  became  sole  pro- 
prietor of  that  immensely  valuable  property. 

By  the  seigneurial  act  of  1854  the  Society  was  obliged 
to  accept  commutation  from  such  of  its  tenants  as  then 
demanded  it.  As  regarded  new  concessions  it  was  of 
course  at  liberty  to  make  its  own  terms  and  conceded 
many  lots  of  land  subject  to  perpetual  ground  rents,  but 
rarely  sold  any.  Its  property  in  the  city  and  district  of 
Montreal  is  therefore  at  the  present  time  of  almost  un- 
known value. 

In  and  immediately  around  Quebec  the  policy  of  grant- 

*It  is  to  be  hoped  that  it  was  not  alone  the  appearance  of  the 
mansion  that  brought  its  owner  tiiis  distinction.  The  family  well 
deserved  the  title  by  varied  and  valuable  services.  Mr.  Parkman 
speaks  of  it  as  the  most  truly  eminent  in  Canada.  A  brother  of  the 
baron  was  the  founder  of  New  Orleans. 


1 


■',i 


i 

% 


THE    FEUDAL    SYSTEM. 


Ill 


ing  small  fiefs  or  dependencies  was  instituted  by  the 
**  Company  of  New  France,"  and  continued  by  successive 
governors — Montmagny,  Frontenac  and  others.  Its  object 
was  to  favor  compact  settlement  in  times  when  the  colony 
was  weak  and  threatened  by  powerful  enemies.  I  have 
been  told  that  some  of  these  tiefs  were  scarcely  larger  than 
good-sized  house  lots. 

The  palisaded  or  otherwise  fortitied  manor-houses 
served  not  infrequently  as  places  of  refuge  and  defense. 
The  most  notable  incident  of  this  kind  was  that  of  the 
holding  of  the  fort  of  Vercheres  (about  20  miles  below 
Montreal  on  the  south  side  of  the  St.  Lawrence)  by  the 
young  daughter  of  the  seigneur. 

Outside  the  fort  was  a  block -house,  connected  with  it 
by  a  covered  way.  One  morning  late  in  October,  1692, 
the  inhabitants  were  at  work  in  the  fields  and  some  of  the 
soldiers  were  out  hunting  at  considerable  distance.  The 
seigneur  and  his  wife  were  away.  Only  two  soldiers,  two 
boys,  an  old  man  of  eighty  years,  and  a  number  of  women 
and  children  were  left  in  the  place. 

The  seigneur's  young  daughter,  Madeleine,  aged  fourteen 
years,  was  by  the  landing-place  at  the  river  with  a  hired 
man  named  Laviolette.  Suddenly  she  heard  firing  from 
the  direction  of  the  workers  in  the  fields,  and  directly  after 
Laviolette  cried  out,  "  Run,  madamoiselle,  run  ;  here  come 
the  Iroquois !  "  Turning,  she  saw  forty  or  fifty  of  them 
at  the  distance  of  a  pistol-shot,  and  ran  as  fast  as  she 
could  towards  the  fort.  The  Indians,  finding  that  they 
could  not  take  her  alive  before  she  reached  the  gate,  stop- 
ped and  fired  at  her,  but  she  ran  on,  with  the  bullets 
whistling  about  her.  As  soon  as  she  was  near  enough  to 
be  heard  she  cried,  '"To  arms,  to  arms!  "  but  the  two  sol- 
diers were  so  frightened  that  they  hid  themselves.  She 
shut  the  gate  and  tried  to  think  what  she  could  do  to  save 


P, 


)! 


n 


I 


113 


THE   FF.DDAL   SYSTEM. 


!  ; 


1( 


herself  and  the  others.  She  found  some  of  the  pahsades 
down  and  immediately  ordered  them  to  he  replaced,  she 
herself  helping  at  the  work.  In  the  block -house  she 
found  the  two  soldiers,  one  of  whom  was  just  about  to  set 
a  lighted  match  to  the  magazine  to  blow  them  all  up. 
She  sent  him  out  of  the  place  and  by  her  spirit  and  reso- 
lution compelled  obedience  to  her  commands. 

With  the  help  of  the  two  soldiers,  whore  panic  soon 
subsided,  and  of  her  two  brothers,  ten  and  twelve  years 
old,  she  opened  tire  on  the  Indians,  who,  deceived  as  to 
the  strength  of  the  garrison,  and  leluctant  as  usual  to 
attack  a  fortitied  place,  turned  to  killing  or  making  pris- 
oners of  the  people  in  the  fields. 

During  the  day  Madeleine  continued  to  show  a  semblance 
of  strength  and  at  night  kept  up  such  a  constant  watch  on 
the  bastions  that  the  Indians  never  suspected  the  weakness 
of  the  defense.  For  forty-eight  hours  the  girl  neither  ate 
nor  slept,  but  kept  encouraging  her  little  force  with  hopes 
of  speedy  relief.  This  state  of  alarm  and  anxiety  contin- 
ued until  at  the  end  of  a  week  a  lieutenant,  sent  by  M.  de 
Callieres,  arrived  with  forty  men,  and  the  brave  girl  sur- 
rendered her  charge  to  him.  He  inspected  the  fort,  found 
everything  in  order  and  a  sentinel  on  each  bastion.  Then 
she  told  him  that  it  was  quite  time  to  relieve  them  for 
they  had  not  been  off  their  posts  for  a  week. 

In  recognition  of  the  bravery  of  this  young  heroine  a 
pension  for  life  was  afterward  granted  her.  A  portion  of 
the  old  fort  is  still  standing. 


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CHANGES  IN  TYPE 


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CHANGES  IN  TYPE 


1  HAVE  often  wished  that  I  could  see  in  print  a  full 
des;,ription  of  some  of  the  interesting^  forms  of  civiliza- 
tion that  were  peculiar  to  Canada  during  the  tifty  years 
before  and  fifty  years  after  the  Conquest.  There  may  be 
such  accounts  in  existence,  but  I  do  not  know  where  to 
find  them  in  any  collected  form,  it  was  a  period  of 
growth  and  transition,  whose  like  could  not  exist  under 
other  conditions  than  those  of  the  climate,  races,  and  modes 
of  life  of  the  people  of  Canada,  and  the  change  from 
feudal  to  alien  monarchical  institutions. 

Some  types  that  existed  in  the  eighteenth  century  have 
become  nearly,  or  quite,  extinct  in  the  nineteenth.  There 
should  be  much  of  interest  concerning  them  that  exists 
only  in  obscure  archives  or  survives  only  in  tradition. 

All  of  the  high  military,  and  some  of  the  highest  civil, 
officials  were  of  course  immediately  supplanted  at  the  time 
of  the  Conquest  by  those  of  the  new  regime.  All  the 
remaining  classes,  the  judges,  lawyers,  notaries,  habitants, 
and  others,  have  since  undergone  great  changes.  We  can 
only  note  a  few  of  them. 

Of  the  sturdy  and  adventurous  canoeman  and  the  hardy 
and  resourceful  carter  the  vocations  have  almost  passed 
away.  Steamboats  have  superseded  the  oiue  and  rail- 
roads the  other  on  all  the  main  lines  of  travel. 

in  the  seventeenth  century  canoeing  was  almost  the 
only  mode  of  travel.  Soldiers,  priests,  traders,  coureurs 
de  bois,  and  the  noted  explorers  of  that  time  were  accus- 
tomed to  start  from  Quebec,  for  the  regions  of  the  Great 


'  V 


'i 


:  i 


r   \ 


ir 


It  I 


'"•i' 


i 


i^ 


l! 


; . 


I)    !'l 


(' 


If   i 


^  ! 


il6 


CHANGES   IN  TYPE. 


Lakes  and  far  be)ond,  in  bark  canoes,  carrying  little  pro- 
vision and  relying  mainly  on  game  and  tish  for  subsistence. 
We  can  form  little  idea  of  the  dangers  and  hardships  which 
they  experienced. 


mw^^^^^* 


in  later  times  (and  there  are  a  few  old  residents  still  liv- 
ing who  can  tell  of  them),  companies  of  twenty,  thirty,  or 
forty  loaded  canoes  would  often  start  together  for  the 
lumbering  regions  of  the  Upper  Ottawa  or  St.  Maurice 
rivers,  the  crews  all  singing  "  En  Roulant  Ma  Boule,"  or 
some  similar  refrain,  keeping  time  with  the  strokes  of 
their  paddles.  The  canoemen  were  portageurs,  too,  in 
those  days,  such  as  we  seldom  see  now.  Their  merchan- 
dise and  provisions  were  ordinarily  packed  in  bales  of  one 
hundred  pounds  each,  of  which  each  man  took  two  as  his 
regular  load  on  the  portages  and  a  third  when  necessary. 
A  not  very  unusual  load  was  a  barrel  of  pork,  to  be  carried 
over  roads  that  were  only  rocky  foot-paths,  obstructed 
by  fallen  timber  and  traversed  by  streams  that  had  to  be 
crossed  on  logs  or  fallen  trees.  There  are  plenty  of  men 
strong  enough,  but  men  inured  to  such  work  are  scarce 
in  our  day.      In  the   north,  away  up  in  the    Hudson 


I  tiwi  ,    ..— - 


CHANGES   IN   TYPE. 


117 


A  lliii'dii  Cliiel. 


Bay  Company's  territory,  canoeing  and  portaging  are 
still  done,  but  the  friend  to  whom  I  have  referred  on  page 
19  says   that  the   Indians  and   half-  ^_ 

breeds  of  that  region  carry  no  such 
loads. 

If  you  meet  with  one  of  these  old 
residents  you  will  not  tind  it  dilficult 
to  arouse  his  enthusiasm  and  start 
him  on  a  flood  of  reminiscences  tJKit 
will  interest  you  as  much  as  they  do 
him. 

Those  of  my  readers  who  have 
crossed  the  St.  Lawrence  in  canoes 
amongst  floating  ice  still  have  vivid  recollections  of  the 
perils  of  the  passage,  although  the  canoes  were  made  of 
wood  and  not  of  the  frail  bark  used  by  summer  voya- 
geurs  on  inland  waters.  If  accidents  were  rare,  exemp- 
tion from  them  was  due  not  to  lack  of  danger,  but  to  the 
skill  of  the  boatmen.  Not  many  will  regret  that  steam 
has  generally  supplanted  humanity  in  that  particular  direc- 
tion, however  much  deligl:;  we  may  take  in  seeing  human 
brain  and  muscle  overcome  obstacles. 

The  carter  ot  old,  like  the  cano^man,  has  nearly  dis- 
appeared. Railroads  have  so  penetrated  the  country  that 
winter  drives  of  two,  three,  or  more  days  are  no  longer 
common  incidents.  A  journey  that  I  have  often  made 
in  winter,  sometimes  in  four  hours  when  the  roads  were 
good  and  my  veteran  carter,  Trudel,  drove  his  slashing 
tandem,  or  that  occupied  two  or  three  days  if  a  heavy 
snow-storm  came  up,  or  if  the  roads  were  bad  and  1  had  a 
country  carter,  1  now  do  by  rail  in  little  over  an  hour.  But 
the  old  journey  was  interesting.  If  there  were  fatigue  and 
hardship,  there  was  also  pleasure.  The  new  conveyance  is 
safe  and  comfortable,  but  dull  and  commonplace.    That  it 


if 


(i 


.!> 


i 


\i\ 


1    >i 

5- 


'i' 


Its 


CHANGES   IN  TYPE. 


'* 


is  preferable  we  all  admit,  but  there  are  .some  of  us  yet 
left  who  occasionally  meet  and  talk  over  the  evenings  we 
have  spent  storm-bound  at  certain  places  en  route,  and 
speak  of  the  many  who  have  gone  over  to  the  majority, 
with  something  of  regret  for  the  old  days,  like  old  people 
everywhere. 

The  canoeman  and  the  carter  of  old  have  almost  dis- 
appeared ;  but  the  seigneur  of  old  is  more  completely 
gone  than  either.  He  was  a  picturesque  and  conspicuous 
figure  in  Canadian  life. 

Although  the  first  seigneurs  were  nobles,  yet  attempts 
to  establish  a  permanent  Canadian  itobility  failed.  The 
country  was  too  poor.  While  a  few  of  the  seigneurs 
attempted  for  a  time  to  maintain  style  and  dignity  corres- 
ponding to  their  rank,  their  revenues  were  insufficient,  ow- 
ing to  the  sparseness  of  the  population.*  Others,  lower  in 
the  social  scale,  of  whom  there  was  a  considerable  number, 
could  not  make  much  effort  in  that  direction.  Although 
landlords  with  large  estates,  their  poverty  obliged  them  to 
become  in  some  measure  habitants,  sometimes  traders. 

Some  of  the  tirst  and  many  of 
the  second  generation  of  these 
yielded  to  the  fascinations  of  the 
wild,  free,  and  adventurous  life  of 
the  conreur  de  bois.  Others  be- 
came explorers,  and  helped  to  dis- 
cover and  make  known  the  great 
rivers  of  the  west,  and  to  found 
trading-posts  that  have  since  be- 
come great  cities.  But  almost  ev- 
p^ie  Marquette.  ery  seigneur  was  a  soldier, or  ready 


*In  1712  ninety-one  sei^meuries  had  been  granted  in  a  population 
not  exceeding:  fifty  thousand  souls. 


1 


F3R 


CHANGES   IN   TYPE. 


119 


to  become  one  ;  his  tastes  and  traditions  led  him  to  a 
soldier's  life. 

When  the  Governor  of  the  colony  called  out  Canadian 
militia,  the  seigneurs  took  the  f^eld  at  the  head  of  their 
tenants.  Both  otiicers  and  men  had  become  skilled  in 
Indian  modes  of  warfare,  which  were  more  to  surprise  and 
murder  their  enemy  than  to  tight  him. 

1  think  we  may  suppose  that  those  of  the  habitants  who 
had  settled  on  and  begun  to  cultivate  some  land  served 
only  under  the  officers  regularly  appointed  over  them  and 
on  regularly  organized  expeditions ;  and  that  only  adven- 
turers and  outlaws  formed  the  nucleus  of  the  savage  hordes 
that  devastated  the  borders  of  New  England,  although  led 

by  younger  members  of  the  Cana- 
dian noblesse  of  no  less  savage 
disposition. 

In  the  intervals  of  comparative 
peace  the  seigneurs  devoted  them- 
selves to  the  cultivation  of  their 
lands,  and  carried  on  more  or  less 
trading  without  materially  better- 
ing their  condition,  until  again 
called  out  en  masse  to  defend  their 
La  Corne  de  St.  Luce.  country 
against  the  English,  half  a  cen- 
tury later.  After  the  Conquest 
many  of  them  returned  to  France, 
while  others  settled  down  on  their 
estates  and  became  simple  coun- 
try gentlemen,  prospering  greatly 
with  the  improved  condition  of 
the  country  and  the  rapidly  in- 
creasing population. 

From  some  of  these  families 
have  sprung  men  who  have  dis- 


r\ 


M.  Clurtier  de  Lotbinifere. 


m^^ 


120 


CHANGES   IN   TYPE. 


i       , 


One  of  the  lust  of  the  Old 
School. 


tiiiguished  themselves  in  various  lines  of  life  in  the  later 
history  of  Canada ;  but  many  families  have  become  ex- 
tinct, or  have  merg^ed  into  the  mass  of  the  people. 

As  other  classes  have  changed,  so  have  judges,  lawyers, 
and  notaries.    Of  the  first  two  I  know  little  except  through 

tradition  and  anecdote,  but  of 
some  of  the  notaries  of  the  old 
school  my  recollection  is  so  clear 
that  I  cannot  help  noticing  the 
difference.  I  distinctly  remember 
one  of  the  last  of  these,  a  man 
of  the  same  pattern  as  those  we 
read  of  as  the  depositary  of  fam- 
ily secrets,  the  one  without  whose 
knowledge  and  assistance  no  busi- 
ness of  any  consequence  could  be 
properly  transacted.  In  looks, 
dress,  manners,  and  habits,  he  was  the  real  old  French 
notary. 

The  notaries  of  Canada  are  a  large  and  respectable  class. 
That  they  form  a  useful  class  in  a  community  where  so 
many  can  neither  read  nor  write  it  is  needless  to  say,  and 
to  business  men  in  general  they  are  a  great  convenience. 
A  considerable  knowledge  of  leg:al  forms  is  necessary  to 
the  profession,  and  a  notarial  document  is  not  easy  to  dis- 
pute in  courts  of  law.  Wills,  contracts,  deeds,  settlements, 
and  agreements  of  all  kinds  are  made  by  them,  and,  as  a 
rule,  well  made.  1  have  sometimes  thought  that  the  nature 
of  the  notaries'  profession  tended  to  encourage  personal 
truth  and  honesty.  Breaches  of  trust  and  unfair  dealings 
of  any  kind  are  rare  among  them,  and  secrets  or  private 
matters  are  generally  safe  in  their  hands. 

The  younger  notaries  of  the  present  time  have  a  less  re- 
gard for  their  profession,  than  their  ancestors  and  are  more 


-S:4ha'C.^^yW■*'»M■^"^*»^»■^a|lt>' 


CHANGES    IN   TYPE. 


121 


1 

ilP 


1 11  < 


ready  to  abandon  it  for  ortice,  or  the  chances  of  political  life. 

The  priest,  by  education  and  training  inclined  to  be 
most  conservative,  is  not  altogether  what  he  was.  It  was 
not  that  he  wanted  to  change,  but  he  found  that  he  must 
adapt  himself  more  or  less  to  the  forces  that  would  move 
the  world  whether  he  liked  it  or  no.  In  some  things  he 
has  given  way  and  gone  forward  ;  in  others  he  still  refuses 
to  move.     I  can  see  changes  that  1  cannot  describe. 

The  habitant  has  changed  with  the  others.  He  has 
been  slow  to  move,  but  has  lost  something  of  his  conserv- 
atism. He  does  not  now  invariably  wear  gray  homespun, 
although  1  would  not  say  that  he  does  not  prefer  it.  1  am 
inclined  to  think  that  his  wearing  of  factory -made  goods 
comes  about  not  through  any  vanity  of  his  own,  but  be- 
cause his  wife  and  daughters  tind  more  protitable  employ- 
ment than  the  slow  and  tedious  processes  of  spinning 
and  weaving  by  hand.  The  daughters  may  have  been 
obliged — some  of  them — to  go  to  the  States  for  this  em- 
ployment, but  they  have  found  it  nevertheless,  and  too 
few  are  left  at  home  to  turn  spinning  wheels  enough  for 
all  their  needs.  In  many  other  ways  also  the  demand  for 
female  labor  has  increased.  Thirty  ynrs  ago  a  seamstress 
was  glad  to  work  for  twenty  cents  t  day,  whereas  now 
she  wants  fifty.  This  instances  only  one  of  the  many 
forces  that  compelled  the  habitant  to  abandon  some  of  his 
inherited  customs.  Giving  them  up  has  been  a  slow  and 
painful  process  to  men  with  little  or  no  education  or  ambi- 
tion and  strongly  bound  by  tradition,  but  they  have  not 
entirely  withstood  the  advance  of  civilization. 

Emigration  of  the  habitant  class  within  the  last  twenty- 
five  years  has  been  enormous,  and  still  goes  on,  although 
fluctuating  from  year  to  year  according  to  the  condition  of 
business.  There  is  scarcely  a  family  in  our  vicinity  from 
which  some  immediate  member  has  not  "  monte  dans  le$ 


I 


•*h' 


I)  i'\ 


■'■  \ 


fit: 


ftt  .  I      fi! 


122 


CHANGES  IN  TYPE. 


E/j/5  "  (gone  up  into  the  States).  Whole  families  have 
been  accustomed  to  go  and  return  almost  annually.  A 
good  many  of  them  find  their  way  back  and  remain  at 
home  ;  for  even  if  they  obtain  constant  and  remunerative 
employment  the  civilization  of  "the  States"  does  not 
always  suit  them,  and  they  long  for  their  own  rivers  and 
forests,  their  familiar  speech,  their  churches,  and  their 
inherited  customs.  Then,  although  they  earn  much  more 
in  the  States,  they  are  obliged  to  work  much  harder  and 
more  steadily  than  at  home ;  and  it  is  not  every  one  that 
likes  hard  work,  even  if  well  paid.  A  man  who  lately 
returned,  when  asked  why  he  came  back  when  he  was 
doing  so  well,  replied,  '' ]e  m'emiuyais  du  pnvs"  (I  was 
tired  of  the  country).  He  had  nothing  to  complain  of, 
but  he  was  homesick.  The  busy,  earnest  life  of  the  States 
does  not  please  the  majority  of  French  Canadians. 

Within  a  few  years,  however,  so  many  have  decided  to 
remain  and  make  the  States  their  home  that  there  are  now 
about  two- thirds  as  many  Canadians  in  the  States  as  in 
Canada,  and  the  regularly  migrating  contingent  has  pro- 
portionately diminished. 

Although  the  most  of  these  Canadians  make  very  good 
American  citizens,  and  some  have  risen  to  posts  of  honor 
and  responsibility,  yet  1  cannot  say  that  my  Canadian 
friends  in  their  own  country  show  much  of  the  public 
spirit  of  New  Englanders  and  the  people  of  the  Northern 
States  generally.  In  all  such  matters  as  roads,  bridges, 
drainage,  sidewalks,  and  similar  works  for  the  public  good 
they  are  far  behind  their  American  neighbors.  This,  I 
imagine,  is  largely  attributable  to  the  inherited  habit  of 
depending  entirely  on  the  Government  for  all  matters  of 
the  kind.  In  the  old  times  the  people  had  no  voice  what- 
ever in  public  affairs,  and  since  they  have  had  control  of 
their  local  concerns  they  have  not  risen  to  any  wide  con- 


CHANGES   IN   TYPE. 


123 


is,  1 
of 
of 

lat- 
of 

011- 


sideration  of  the  general  welfare.  Another  reason  is  the 
comparative  poverty  of  the  people.  The  habitant  has  as 
a  rule  but  little  ready  money,  and  it  goes  terribly  against 
the  grain  to  pay  out  anything  for  taxes,  although  he 
knows  he  will  receive  an  almost  immediate  advantage 
from  them.  He  has  very  little  notion  of  doing  or  sacri- 
ficing anything  for  the  general  good,  even  while  he  shares 
in  it.  For  example,  the  law  requires  every  land-owner  to 
keep  the  road  in  front  of  his  property  in  order.  In  the 
villages  where  the  houses  are  close  together,  the  roads  may 
be  quite  good,  but  outside  of  these  they  are  liable  to  be  as 
bad  as  they  can  be  without  being  dangerous.  They  must 
inconvenience  him  very  seriously  before  he  will  repair 
them. 

Still  another  reason,  and  one  that  is  especially  demor- 
alizing, is  that  the  Government  has  been  in  the  habit 
of  making  grants  for  roads,  bridges,  etc.,  for  the  purpose 
of  political  effect.  Such  practices  are  not  at  all  unknown 
on  the  other  side  of  the  line,  but  they  are  more  effectual 
in  a  small  country  than  in  a  large  one,  and  it  is  easier  to 
see  their  workings.  The  supposed  ability  of  a  candidate 
for  office  to  obtain  grants  for  local  purposes  is  a  prime, 
and  often  the  chief,  factor  in  his  popularity. 

The  average  habitant  voter  has  no  political  opinions 
worth  the  name.  His  vote  depends  on  personal  prejudices 
or  private  interests  more  than  anything  else.  His  talk  on 
political  matters  mainly  consists  of  abuse  of  the  men  of 
the  opposite  party.  He  has  no  principles  as  to  public 
policy  behind  it,  nor  is  he  very  sensitive  to  the  wrong- 
doings or  short-comings  of  his  own  party  leaders.  He 
will  tell  you  that  he  has  no  great  contidence  in  any  of  the 
leaders,  but  that  there  are  some  that  he  considers  a  little 
worse  than  the  others.  A  priest  from  a  back  country 
parish  1  think  expressed  the  feelings  of  the  habitants  quite 


liV 


,11 


It 


■•'  , 


i' 


124 


CHANGES   IN  TYPE. 


well  when  he  said  recently  to  a  person  supposed  to  have 
some  influence  with  the  Government,  "  My  people  don't 
care  anythinji'  about  the  school  question  or  the  taritY  or 
reciprocity  or  any  of  those  thin^i^s.  What  we  want  is 
three  mails  a  week,  and  if  we  don't  get  them  your  party 
will  not  have  a  single  vote  in  my  parish  at  the  next 
elections." 

1  heard  ihat  the  man  that  1  employed  to  work  in  the 
garden  and  do  chores  about  the  house,  althougli  not  a 
voter,  was  a  great  political  worker,  and  one  day  I  thought 
I  would  chatY  him  a  little.  He  admitted  that  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  work  for  one  ol  the  parties,  but  that  if  I  pre- 
ferred that  he  should  work  for  the  other  or  not  work  at 
all  he  would  do  as  I  wished.  I  told  him  I  did  not  care 
which  party  he  worked  for,  which  relieved  his  mind,  for 
he  said  he  was  a  poor  man  and  wanted  to  earn  what  he 
could  ;  and  as  he  had  worked  for  a  long  time  for  one 
party  and  always  been  well  paid,  he  would  like  to  con- 
tinue to  do  so. 

A  certain  amount  of  real  property  or  its  equivalent  in 
the  payment  of  rental  or  in  the  possession  of  fixed  revenue 
is  a  necessary  qualification  for  voters  in  this  Province. 
The  amount  is  small,  but  sufficient  to  exclude  the  votes  of 
the  utterly  irresponsible. 

Elections  are  conducted  much  more  peaceably  now  than 
they  were  thirty  years  ago.  1  remember  the  time  when 
gangs  of  roughs  were  engaged  to  go  from  place  to  place 
to  see  that  votes  for  their  employers  were  protected,  and 
that  others  were  not. 

A  man,  now  a  carter,  whom  1  occasionally  employ, 
frankly  regrets  the  time  when  his  185  pounds  avoirdu- 
pois,  his  activity  ana  considerable  knowledge  of  "the 
manly  art,"  were  potent  factors  in  election  contests.  In 
those  days  his  services  were  sure  to  be  retained  by  some- 


" 


CHANGKS   IN   TVl'E. 


125 


body.  Money  seems  to  have  taken  the  place  of  force,  for 
I  remeniher  that  out  of  72  nieiiihers  returned  as  elected  to 
Parhanient  at  an  election  not  very  long  ago,  some  30  were 
unseated  for  hrihery  or  "corrupt  practices." 

Great  hopes  are  entertained  of  henetit  from  laws  re- 
cently enacted  regarding  the  purity  of  elections,  and  it  is 
believed  that  some  improvement  has  already  taken  place. 
Cases  of  contested  elections  in  this  country  are  tried  by 
the  courts,  which  is  perhaps  an  improvement  on  the  Amer- 
ican plan. 

Speaking  of  election  or  other  tights,  there  are  few  French 
Canadians  who  have  much  pugilistic  science.  Their  strong 
point  is  the  rough-and-tumble  scrimmage,  where  strength 
is  of  more  accoimt  than  science.  In  this  kind  of  fighting 
the  Canadian  is  no  mean  adversary.  His  power  lies  in 
his  back,  legs,  and  shoulders,  and  this  he  is  always  ready  to 
exert.  Indeed  1  very  often  get  out  of  patience  with  the 
men  because  when  they  have  a  very  heavy  load  to  move 
they  will  not  use  the  simplest  mechanical  contrivances, 
such  as  skids,  levers,  or  rollers.  They  merely  take  hold 
and  lift.  It  is  harder,  and  in  the  end  usually  takes  more 
time  ;  but  that  is  their  fashion,  and  they  will  not  bother 
with  any  other  if  they  can  avoid  it.  At  the  same  time 
they  arrange  tilings  with  a  good  deal  of  ingenuity  when  it 
is  really  necessary. 


» 


I 


1. 


( 


V?. 


\ 


10 


IL 


»:' 


M 


n 


part  11V 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNES 


(; 
I! 


f 


li\ 


' 


t> 


U      I 


■ 


>  ! 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNES 


'I 


(3f  folk-lore  as  senorally  understood,  in  the  way  of  local 
lesjeiids,  I  have  found  little,  but  the  conies  and  the  popular 
sonijs,  of  which  there  is  a  very  lar^e  number,  properly  be- 
louii  to  this  cates^ory.  (Cloiiiparalively)  rew  of  them  have 
ever  been  printed  in  this  country,  but  both  words  and  music 
have  come  down  by  tradition.  All  of  them  (possibly 
with  very  rare  exceptions)  come  from  France,  and  few 
seem  to  have  originated  later  than  the  15th  or  16ih  cen- 
turies. The  airs  are  generally  on  a  scale  not  now  in  use, 
and  some  of  them  are  impossible  to  harmonize  on  correct 
musical  principles  without  material  change  in  the  mtdody. 

Partly  from  personal  notation  and  partly  through  the 
courtesy  of  Mr.  Hrnest  Gagnon  of  Quebec,  who  has  made 
in  his  "  Chansons  Populaires  "  the  largest  collection  that 
has  yet  been  published,  and  to  whom  I  acknowledge  my 
indebtedness,  I  am  able  to  give  a  few  songs  merely  as 
specimens  of  hundreds  of  others.  1  have  not  attempted  to 
select  the  best,  but  rather  the  most  popular,  or  at  all  events 
those  most  familiar  to  me.  On  the  same  principle  1  give 
the  words  of  some  not  always  precisely  as  they  may  have 
been  printed,  but  as  I  have  been  accustomed  to  hear  them. 
Dirterent  persons  rarely  sing  them  precisely  alike.  Mr. 
Gagnon,  in  a  note  to  me,  puts  this  truly  and  concisely 
by  saying  that  "  in  the  matter  of  popular  songs  there  are 
as  many  variations  as  there  are  throats." 

"A  la  Claire  Fontaine"  is  known  and  sung  by  every 
one.  "  On  n'est  pas  CanaJien  sans  le/a,"  says  Mr. 
Gagnon.     (One  is  not  a  Canadian-without  that.)    "  Par 


ili' 

1! 


n 


\] 


r 


f\ 


^  1/ 

;    i 


130 


CHANSONS   CANADICNNES. 


to-  I 


I     '.' 


)\ 


11  0  I 


I" 


Derriere  Chez  Mon  Pere"  is  not  less  familiar.  A  version 
of  this  under  the  title  "  Vive  la  Canadiemie  "  is  played 
at  concerts  and  the  like  in  connection  with  "  God  Save 
the  Queen  "  as  the  linale  de  rigeitr,  as  sometimes  also  is 
"  A  la  Claire  r'ontaine." 

To  the  song  "  Mon  Canard  Blanc  "  or  "  Derriere  Chez 
Nous  Ya-t-un  etang  "  various  choruses  are  sung'.  The  most 
popular  is  that  lively  and  vigorous  one,  "  En  Roulant  Ma 
Boule,"  known  to  every  Canadian. 

Another  very  taking  chorus  is  the  one,  "  C'est  L'aviron 
Qui  Nous  Mene  Qui  Nous  Monte."  Widely  known  as  it 
is,  I  could  not  lind  it  in  print,  and  was  obliged  to  appeal  to 
an  old  habitant  for  a  correct  version.  When  asked  if  he 
knew  it  he  promptly  replied  that  he  knew  that  and  two 
hundred  and  lifty  others,  and  was  with  ditiiculty  restrained 
from  singing  them  all. 

With  other  songs  1  include  "  Malbrouck  S'en  Va-t-en 
Guerre,"  not  because  it  is  very  old,  but  because  in  one  of 
its  many  versions  it  is  so  often  heard.  One  of  them  is 
precisely  the  familiar  air  o{  "  We  Won't  Go  Home  Till 
Morning,"  and  another  has  been  made  famous  by 
"Trilby."  Neither  of  these,  however,  is  the  one  most 
generally  used. 

The  air  of  "  Vive  Napoleon"  is  very  ancient  and  has 
undergone  many  changes.  "Vive  Napoleon"  has  been 
substituted  for  "  Vive  la  Roi."  The  Canadians  sing  "Vive 
la  Roi  de  la  Reine,"  thus  avoiding,  says  Mr.  Gagnon,  "  the 
hiatus  that  would  occur  in  singing  '  le  roi  et  la  reine.'  " 

"  isabeau  S'y  Promene  "  is  extremely  quaint  and  pleas- 
ing. 

If  any  person  who  has  some,  even  a  very  slight, acquaint- 
ance with  French  and  music,  will  take  a  little  pains  to  no- 
tice how  the  words  and  music  go  together,  and  see  with 
what  vigor  and  swing  they  move,  and  the  peculiar  inter- 


\f   /i 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNES. 


131 


m 


va1s,  lie  will,  unless  by  chance  he  should  already  have 
heard  the  soni^s  in  their  native  or  chosen  habitat,  find  that  a 
new  source  of  enjoyment  has  been  opened  to  him.  To 
those  who  have  not  much  knowledge  of  the  subject  it  miiy 
be  well  to  s:iv  that  there  need  he  no  hesitation  about 
strongly  bringing  out  the  final  e  when  needed  to  till  out 
the  measure  when  it  would  be  mute  in  speech  or  prose. 
For  example,  in  the  chorus  "  Vole,  Mon  Oeur,  Vole,"  Vole 
is  used  as  a  word  of  two  syllables.  In  "  A  la  Claire  Fon- 
taine" the  linal  es  have  separate  notes.  Something  of  this, 
as  is  well  known,  is  usual  in  all  French  music,  but  it  is  nat- 
urally more  conspicuous  in  popular  songs  than  in  others. 

Noise  is  of  course  a  great  factor  in  these  songs,  and  the 
airs  are  pitched  very  high.  There  is  no  attempt  at  part 
singing.  The  voices  are  assumed  to  be  in  unison,  though 
we  must  confess  that  they  sometimes  fail  to  hit  the  mark. 

Doubtless  the  most  enjoyable  circumstances  under  which 
these  songs  can  be  given  are  those  under  which  I  have 
oftenest  heard  them  —  on  canoeing  voyages  and  around 
camp-tires.  When  two  or  more  canoes  are  together  on 
some  quiet  water,  nothing  is  more  delightful  than  to  hear 
a  voice  from  one  of  them  start  one  of  these  songs,  sing- 
ing perhaps  a  couple  of  lines,  which  are  repeated  in  cho- 
rus. Then  may  come  more  lines  similarly  echoed,  and 
so  on,  the  chorus  forming  by  far  the  most  important  part 
of  the  performanc.  If  the  journey  is  a  leisurely  one,  the 
song  vvill  very  likely  be  "  Isabe.ui  S'y  Promene,"  but  if 
there  is  occasion  for  haste  it  will  be  "  Derriere  Chez  Nous 
Ya-t-un  etang,"  with  the  ringing  chorus,  "  En  Roulant 
Ma  Boule."  Around  camp-lires  the  songs  are  not  less 
fascinating  than  in  the  canoes.  Perhaps  this  is  owing 
somewhat  to  the  state  of  mind  of  the  listeners.  It  is  some- 
times surprising  how  feeble  the  strongest  intellect  will 
show  itself  to  be  when,  after  a  day  tilled  with  varied  out- 


•  i 


■|  .'i 


I! 


li 


*  i 


(I 


132 


CHANSONS   CANADIENINES. 


of-door  pleasures,  a  man  has  eaten  a  supper  that  aston- 
ishes him,  fallen  back  on  a  bed  ol  branches,  and  stretched 
his  feet  out  toward  a  cheerful  bhue. 

We  once  had  a  considerable  party  of  staid  and  dignitied 
college  professors.  After  a  round  of  Canadian  songs,  these 
serious  minded  gentlemen  stood  up  and  sang  "  Johnny 
Schmoker,"  "  Was  Macht  der  Herr  Papa,"  and  a  lot  more 
of  the  college  songs  of  thirty  or  forty  years  ago !  It  was 
a  pleasure  to  see  these  earnest  scholars  recalling  their  soph- 
omore days,  joining  hands  and  singing  "  Gaudeamus 
Igitur"  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  youth. 

Another  time  when  we  camped  in  a  pouring  rain  which 
dampened  their  clothes  but  not  their  spirits,  two  young 
ladies  amused  themselves  by  concocting  and  singing  such 
stuff  as  this : 

Hark,  Uie  rain  is  lallini;  down, 

Hear  it  splosh,  hear  it  splosh  ! 
It  will  make  our  deiiiin  i^owiis 

Ready  lor  the  wash. 

»  * 

Hear  one  happy  maiden  cry 

"  Is  it  we?    Is  it  we  ?" 
Hear  the  otiier's  quick  reply, 

"  I  do  hope  it  be." 


pi;    I  J> 


m 


^^ 


-&■ 


zx 


^^ 


m 


s 


<y 


^^ 


.  ( 


But  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  real  programme. 
The  usual  "  numbers  "  were  such  as  the  following  : — 


CHANSONS   CANADIENNES. 


133 


A  la  Claire  Fontaine. 


A  la    clai-     re    fon-tai-ne        M'eii  al-  laiit        pro-me-  ner, 


J'ai  trou-ve  I'eaii  si    bel-  le        Que  je  m'y 


CH0RU5. 


siiis  baigne. 


;j}  Ji  J-  ii  J 


Lui  ya  long-temps  que  je    t'aime,      Jamais    je    ne         t'oiiblieiai. 


A  la  Claire  funtaine 
M'en  allaiit  promeiier, 
J'ai  troiive'  I'eaii  si  belie 
Que  je  in'v  suis  baii;ne. 
*Lui  ya  li  my  temp,,  ^lue  je  t'aime. 
Jamais  je  iie  t'luiblierai. 

J'ai  Irouve'  I'eau  si  belle 
Que  je  m'v  suis  baigne'; 
Sous  les  feuilles  d'un  cliene 
Je  me  suis  fait  seclier. 
Lui  ya  Innytemps,  etc. 

Sous  les  feuilles  d'uii  clieiie 
Je  me  suis  fait  seVher; 
Sur  la  plus  haute  brauclie 
Le  rdssijjiiul  chaiitait. 
Lui  ya  Idiiytemps.  etc. 

Sur  la  plus  haute  brauche 
Le  rossijiiiol  chaiitait. 


li 


If 


^■ 


I 


♦  "  I<»  i  ya,"  old  form  for  "  Il-y-a.' 


Ivt 


CHANSONS  CANADIFNNES. 


m 


\i' 


Cliante,  nissi^iml,  cliuiitc, 
Tfii  i|ui  us  \c  Cd'iir  nai. 
Lui  ya  lnin;((.'inps,  otc. 

niiaiilL'.  rossitiiiol,  i-liaiiU-. 
Tui  i.]ui  as  le  C(L'iir  i(ai ; 
Til  as  le  CiL'iir  ^  lire, 
Miii  je  I'ai-t-a  pleurLT. 
I.ui  ya  loiit;tenips,  cic. 

I'll  as  k'  (.■(inir  a  riiv, 
Moi  ie  I'ai-l-a  pleurer; 
.I'ai  perJu  ma  niaitresse 
Sans  I'aviiir  nijrile. 
I.ui  ya  liiiii^lonips,  etc. 

I'ai  \\'\\\u  ma  iiiailresse 
Sans  I'avdir  nierito. 
I'oin'  un  boiKiuel  dc  roses 
(,)ik'  ie  lui  iclusai. 

I.ui  ya  IdU'^temps.  eU'. 

I'nur  un  buu.iuet  de  roses 
Que  ie  lui  rel'usai. 
Je  voudiais  que  la  mse 
rfil  encnre  au  rosier. 
I.ui  ya  Inu'^lemps,  etc. 

Je  VI  ludrais  que  la  ruse 
I  ui  enei  ire  au  ri  isier. 
Je  vdudrais  que  le  rosier 
I'd'  a  la  mer  iete. 

I.ui  ya  lon^iemps,  ete. 

.le  VI  'Uilrais  que  le  rosier 
rCil  a  1,1  mer  jele  ; 
,le  v  Hidrais  qn.'  la  belle 
lui  eneore  a  m'aimer. 
Lui  ya  Innulemps,  etc. 


1 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNES. 


En  l^oiilaiit  M;i  Bouk'. 


135 


ist  time  <.oln.     \\\\cT}i\co, 


^|J-N   ly.  fj.||'.N  lij/J^ 


En    roil-  laiit    m.i      bou  -  le     roii  -  l.uit,      En     roii-lant     ma      bou     -   le. 


J^--Jh-h^=^h-k  I  J   -J*  J- 


f 


? 


SS-J-. 


Der  -  riir'    chez  nous    ya    t'lin       e   -   tanjr-        En      rou  -  lant     ma     bou  -    !e 


^• 


p-^-F  I  r  pn^^is^^g^^EgEjEg^i^ 


Trois  beaux  can-ards    sVn   vont  baignant,   rou  -  !i,     rou-lant,    nia     hou-le   rou  -  1. nit. 


Trnis  beaux  canariis  sVmi  vont  b:iii;naiit 

liii  nmlanl  ma  biuile, 
Le  Ills  dii  riii  s'en  ^a  eiiassant, 
Kuiili,  rouhml,  ma  linule  rnulaiU. — Ret'. 

Le  lils  (.III  roi  s'en  va  chassaiU. 

I'll  roiilanl  ma  bmile. 
Avee  .Si 111  i;raiui  lusil  d'aruenl, 
R'Hili,  roiiiaiU.  ma  bmile  roiilaiil. — Rel. 

Avee  smi  i;raiul  lii.sil  ii'ar'.^ent. 

lin  roiilam  ma  boule. 
Visa  le  iiuir,  tua  le  blane, 
Ri'iili,  nmlaiit,  ma  lioiik>  rnulaiit. — Rel. 

Visa  le  iiinr,  lu.i  le  biane, 
IJi  ii  ml. ml  ma  bi  mlo. 
(  I  lils  du  VI  li,  til  es  meJiaiit  ' 
Riiuli.  niul.iiu,  ma  bnule  muhiiil. — Rel'. 

(J  lils  till  n  li.  Ill  es  meeh.uu  I 

Ell  ruiilaiU  ma  bmile. 
D'avuir  uie  mnii  eanard  Mane, 
Riiuli.  rnulaiU,  ma  boule  rnulant. — Ret'. 


If 


y'U 


il: 


.v.. 


136 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNES. 


M     «  ) 


i»        h 


D'avdir  tik^  iiiun  canard  blaiic, 

lin  riiulaiil  nia  bi  uik', 
Par  dessoiis  \'m\c  il  pt'i\l  smi  saii.i,', 
Roiili,  rdiil.mt,  ma  l^'mik'  idiilaiil.  —  Ref. 

Par  dessdiis  I'aile  il  perd  sim  sant;',  • 

En  nuilant  nia  bunk'. 
Par  les  yeiix  liii  suit'nl  des  diamants, 
Rtiiili,  I'oulanl.  ma  buule  iDiilanl. — Ref. 

Par  les  yeux  lui  snrt'nl  dc's  diamants. 

Ell  r<iiilaiit  ma  boiiii.'. 
El  par  le  Ivo  I'nr  ol  I'art^L'nt, 
Riiuli,  riiiilant,  ma  bmilt'  mulant.  —  Ref. 

Et  p.ir  \c  ivi.'  I'lir  et  rari^ent, 

En  ri  iiil ml  ma  bmilL', 
Tmiles  ses  plum's  s'en  vont  an  vent, 
Riiiili,  nmliiu,  ma  boiiie  niulant. — Ref. 

Tuiites  ses  plum's  s'en  vonl  an  vent, 

En  nmlant  ma  boule, 
Trois  dam's  s'en  vonl  les  ramassant, 
Ruiili,  rdiilanl.  ma  buiile  mulanl. — Rel. 

Truis  dam's  s'en  v^nl  les  ramassant, 

En  ruiilanl  ma  bi  uile. 
C'est  pi'ur  en  taire  un  lit  de  eamp, 
Roiili,  roiilant,  ma  buule  ruuiant. — Ref. 

C'est  pour  en  iaire  un  lit  de  camp. 

En  rdulant  ma  boule, 
Pour  y  couclier  tons  les  passants, 
Rouii,  roulant,  ma  boule  ruuiant. — Ref. 


),     I 


.!*  f 


CHA^so^s  cainauiennes. 


137 


Par  Derri^r'  Chez  Men  Pere. 

Sung  first  as  a  solo,  then  as  £i  chorus. 


ri&'MJ'.ri'ri 


Par    derriir'    chez  mon       pi-      re,  Vo-  le,    mon  cceiir, 


r\f^p\rs^^<\nm 


m 


vo-        le,  Par  derriir'    chez  mon       p^    re,     Lui  ya-t-un  pommier 


doiix. 


Lui     ya-t-un       pommier     doux,  tout    doux,    Lui 


^       ya  t-iin     pom-  mier    doiix.       D 


.C 


Par  derri^r'  cliez  mon  pere, 

Vole,  mon  oeur,  vole, 

Par  derri^r'  chez  mon  p^re 

Lui  ya-t-un  pommier  duux. 

Lui  ya-t-ini  pummier  dtiux,  tout  doux. 

Lui  ya-t-un  pommier  doux. 

Les  feuilles  en  sont  vertes. 

Vole,  mon  cieiu'.  vule, 

Les  feuilles  en  sont  vertes 

Et  le  fruit  en  est  doux. 

Et  le  fruit  en  est  dmix,  tout  doux, 

Et  le  fruit  en  est  doux. 

Trois  lilies  d'un  prince. 
Vole,  mon  ctjeur,  vole, 


i 


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i;  » 


71 


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J 

i 

■I 


138 


CHANSONS  CANADIFNNnS. 

Trois  tillc's  il'iiii  prince 

St  ml  t'lulnrniics  dessdiis. 

SmU  I'luli >rnii(.'s  cIl'ssous,  l<>ul  ilmix, 

Soul  (.'luiiinnK's  ilcssi  ms. 

I.;i  plus  ic'iin"  sc'  lewilk', 

Vult'.  iimii  ciL'iir,  vole, 

L;i  plus  jt'un'  sc  rJvcille  : 

— M;i  siL'ur,  vuiJa  le  iour. 

M;i  Sd'Ui',  viii!;\  k  jour,  loul  doux, 

M;i  S(L'ur,  voih'i  le  jour. 

—  Noil,  Cl'  iiV'sl  qu'uik'  Jloilu, 
Vole,  moil  t"(Lur,  vole. 
Noil,  ce  n'est  iiu'uiie  eioiie 
Qu'echiire  iios  .imoiirs. 
Qu'eelaire  ims  ;uii(»urs,  loul  doux, 
(.)u"eel:rire  iios  uniours. 


C'est  rAvii'on  ( )ui  Nous  Meiie. 


^=^d:^^i^^ 


C'est     I'a-vi-ron  qui  iiolls  mene,  tiiii  nous  nionte,  C'c^t  I'.i-vi-ron  qui  iidus 


i 


■  • 


monte   en        haul. 


■  •»' 


111  qui  lUHis 


CI 


CHANSONS  CANAnirNNFS. 


Isabeau  s'y  Prom^ne. 

Solo  first  ttnip  to  slffn,  tlicii  repealed  by  olionis. 

Also  from  si'^ii  first  time  solo,  llii  ii  niic.itcil  hy  the  clionis. 


139 


<^-4iM^=^^ 


^ 


s;i-      beau         s'y     pro-        m^-        ne 


Lc  long  de  sou      jar-     din. 


Le  long  de      son  jar-din,  Sur  le 


'-'  u^.  I  .^.■  I';  lu  I  ^  li^iiir  ,)^         v:iMi  i  ir.ilin      <\iir    If 


bord  de  I'i-  -   le. 


Le  long  de       son  jar-din,  Sur  le 


v  1,,,..  J        1.      1. c.._      i»  u^...j      I ,:.. 


bord    de    I'eau,    Sur    le        bord  du    vais-seau. 


nile  s'lipori^iiit  d'uiu'  Ixirque 
De  trc'iiU'  inatL'liils. 
Do  t  lent  J  iii;iU'liils 
Sur  le  b(  <\\\  de  Tile,  elc 

I.e  plus  jemu'  dos  trenU', 
( jimpiisail  iiiK'  I'hansi  m. 
("^imipiisaii  line  eliansiui 
Sur  le  1^1  nd  de  Pile,  etc. 

— La  ehaiiscii  que  iii  (.■liantes, 
Je  voudrais  la  savuir. 
,Ie  vdudr.iis  la  savuir 
Sur  le  bi>rd  de  Pile,  etc. 


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140 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNES. 

— Enib;iiqiie  il;ins  ma  barque, 
Je  te  la  cliaiiter.ii. 
Je  te  la  clianterai 
Siir  k'  bniil  de  I'ile,  etc. 

Quaiul  I'lr  flit  dans  la  barque, 
Eir  sf  mil  a  pk'urer. 
Eir  so  mil  a  pleurer 
Sur  If  bord  de  Tile.  etc. 

— Qu'avez-vuus  dune  la  belle, 
Qu'a-vou.s  a  tant  plcurer.' 
Qu'a-vitus  a  taut  pleurer 
Sur  le  biird  de  Tile,  etc. 

— Je  pleur'  nmn  anneau  d'ore, 
Dans  I'eau-z-il  est  tombe. 
Dans  I'eau-z-il  est  t<>mbe 
Sur  le  bord  de  I'ile.  etc. 

— Ne  pleurez  puint  la  belle, 
Je  vous  le  plonnerai. 
Je  vuus  le  plonyerai 
Sur  le  bord  de  I'ile,  etc. 


n  I 


t    > 


De  la  premiere  plont;e, 
II  n'a  rien  ramene. 
11  n"a  rien  ramene 
Sur  le  bold  de  I'ile.  etc. 

De  la  seconde  plonpe 
L'amieau-z-a  voitijje'. 
L'anneau-z-a  voltii^e' 
Sur  le  bord  de  I'ile.  etc. 

De  la  troisieine  plonije 

Le  ^alant  s'est  noye. 

Le  K^ilant  s'est  noye 
Sur  le  bord  de  I'ile, 

Le  ,i;alant  s'est  noye 
Sur  le  bord  de  I'eau, 
Sur  le  bord  du  vaisseau. 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNF.S. 


141 


Aloiiette. 


A  -  lou-  et  -  te,  gen-tille  A-  lou-et  -  le,    A  -  lou-  et  -  te,  je    te  plu-me-rai, 


Je  te  plu-merai  la  tete,     je    te  plii-merai    !a  tete,  et    la  tete.    et  la  tete,      O- 
f 


j.j^j  J I  j^iggj^M,  j>  J  ji/ji/i 


3 


^ 


A  -  lou  -  ct   -   te,      gentille  A-lou-et  -  te,       A  -    lou-  ct  -  te,        je    te  plu-nie-rai. 


Alduette,  irentille  Aloiiette,  Almiette,  je  te  plunienii, 
Je  te  plumeiai  le  bee,  je  te  pluiueiai  le  bee, 
Et  le  bee,  et  le  bee.  et  ki  tete,  el  la  tete.— O.  &c. 

Ahniette,  Kentille  Almiette,  Alouette,  je  te  pliimerai, 
Je  le  pliimerai  le  nez,  je  te  pliimerai  le  nez, 
El  le  nez,  el  le  nez,  el  le  bee,  el  le  bee, 
El  la  tele,  el  la  tele.— n.  &c. 

Almiette,  .nentilie  Aluiiette,  Aloiiette,  je  le  pliimerai, 

Je  le  pliimerai  le  dos,  je  te  pliimerai  le  dos. 

El  le  dos,  el  le  dos.  el  le  nez.  et  le  nez, 

El  le  bee,  el  le  bee,  et  la  tele,  et  la  tele.— O,  &e. 

Alouetle,  gentille  Alouette,  Aloiiette,  je  te  pliimerai, 
Je  le  pliimerai  les  pattes,  je  te  pliimerai  les  patles, 
Et  les  pattes.  el  les  pattes,  et  le  dos,  et  le  d<is, 
El  le  nez,  el  le  nez,  et  le  bee,  el  le  bee, 
Lt  la  tete.  et  la  tete.— O,  &e. 

Alouette,  i;entille  Alouette.  Aloueile.  je  te  plumerai, 

Je  te  plumerai  le  eon.  ie  te  plumerai  le  eou, 

El  le  cou,  el  le  eoii,  el  les  pattes,  et  les  patles, 

Et  le  dos,  el  le  dos,  et  le  nez,  et  le  nez, 

Et  le  bee.  et  le  bee,  el  la  tete.  et  la  tele.— O,  &c. 

♦  Repeat  this  bar  once  for  .h1  verse,  twice  for  ,^d  verse,  etc. 


f^ 


II 


^ 


^'\    11  ■  I 


142 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNES. 


Malbroiick. 


/f((<5rett< 


JIJ-     >^-^ 


~\ 


Mal-brouck  s'en  va-t-  en    guer  -     -     re,  Ri        too    tra    la,        ri 

Y4ll 


■  :"^A\rh^ 


too     tra  la.    Malbrouck  s'en  va-t-  en  guer  -    -    re.  Ne      sail  quand  re-vitn- 


dra,    la       bas,    Cou-  rez,  cou  -  rez,    cou  -  rez  !        Pe  -  ti  -  te    fill'     jeune  et  gen 

itfcsE  1         A  A  A 


'il   -   le.    Cou-rez,    cou- rez,  cou- rez!     V'eii  -  ez    ce    soir  vous  a  -  mu  -  i.er. 


t  -' 


I  revienc1ra-7-;\  Paqiies, 
Ri  too  tra  la.  etc., 

II  reviendra-/-;i  Pruiiies, 
Oil  \  la  Trinite,  l:\  bas. 

La  Trinite  ce  passe, 
Ri  too  tra  ja,  etc.. 
La  Trinite  ce  passe, 
Malbrouck  ne  revient  pas,  l;\  bas. 

Madame  ;\  sa  tour  nmnte, 

Ri  too  tra  la,  etc., 
Madame  ;\  sa  lour  monte, 
Si  liaut  qu'eir  peut  monter,  \\  bas. 

Elle  aper^oit  son  pai^e, 

Ri  too  tra  la,  etc., 
Elle  aper^oit  son  paj;e, 
Tout  de  noir  habille',  1;\  bas. 


salt  quand  re-vitn 


P 


fill'     jeiine  et  gen 
.te>«y>o. 


a  -  mil  -  ser. 


CHANSONS  CANADIFNNES. 

■'  Beau  pai^e,  ;ih  !  iikmi  beau  page, 
Quell'  iiniivelle  apporte/.  ?" 

"  Aux  iiiiiiv ell's  que  j'appuite, 
\'i  IS  beaux  yeux  vont  pleurer. 

"  Quitte/  Mis  habits  roses, 
1:1  VI is  satins  broche's. 

"Monsieur  Malbrinick  est  imirt, 
Est  mort  et  enterre. 

"  .ITai  vu  porter  en  terre, 
Par  qualre-/-urticiers." 


C'est  la  belle  Fran(;oise. 


143 


C'est     la  bel-Ie  Fran-      qoise.    Ion,    gair  C'est  la     belle   Fran- 


^^^^^^^m 


qoi  -  se  Qui  veut      s'y  nia-ri-  er,    ma  hi-  ron,  ki-     ret   -    te, 


^■^■^  rPFl(^ 


Qui  veut    s'y  ma-  ri-  er,  ma    In-     ron,    lu-  re. 


Son  ainaiit  va  lu  \i>iie.  li>n,  i;ai. 

Sun  ainaiit  va  la  voire 

Bien  tard.  apres  smipor,  ma  luron,  lurette, 

Bien  taril,  apres  smiper.  ma  Uiri>n,  hire. 

11  la  Irouva  seulelle,  Imi.  ji;ai, 

II  la  trouva  seulette 

Sur  sun  lit,  qui  pleurait,  ma  luron,  lurette, 

Sur  son  lit,  qui  pleurait,  ma  luron,  hire. 


f 


I, 


5  V 


144 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNES. 


Mon  Merle  :i  Perdu  Son  Bee. 


i   I 


CJ 


-P- 


Mon  merle  a  perdu  sou  bee,  Mon  merle  a  perdu  sou  bee.        Un  bee  deux  bees  Ah  O 

sa  tete  une  tete  deux  tetes, 

/7\ 


m 


f.fjjjjiJj^jj 


Que  me  vas  tu  chanter,  O    que  me  vas  tu  chanter  > 


Mon  merle  a  perdu  sa  tete, 
Mon  merle  a  perdu  sa  tele. 
Une  tele,  deux  teles,  un  bee,  deux  bees.  Ah,  O,  etc. 

Mon  Merle  a  perdu  un  (uil, 

Mon  Merle  a  perdu  un  ojil. 

Un  (L'fl,  deux  yeux,  une  tete,  deux  tetes, 

Un  bee,  deux  bees.  Ah,  O,  etc. 

Mon  merle  a  perdu  son  cku, 

Mon  merle  a  perdu  son  cou. 

Un  cuu,  deux  cous.  lui  <vil,  deux  yeux. 

Une  tete,  deux  teles,  un  bee,  deux  bees.  Ah,  O,  etc. 

Mon  merle  a  perdu  son  dos, 

Mon  merle  a  perdu  son  dos. 

Un  dos.  deux  dos,  un  cou,  deux  cmis, 

Un  cu'il,  deux  yeux,  une  tele,  deux  teles, 

Un  bee,  deux  bees.  Ah,  (),  etc. 

Mon  merle  a  perdu  une  patte, 

Mon  merle  a  perdu  une  patte. 

Une  patte,  deux  pattes,  un  dos.  deux  dos, 

Un  cou,  deux  cous,  un  evil,  deux  yeux, 

Une  tele,  deux  teles,  un  bee,  deux  bees,  Ah,  O,  etc. 


*  Repeat  thi.s  bar  once  for  2d  verse,  twice  for  31!  verse,  etc. 


' 


leux  bees  Ah   O 
leux  tetes, 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNES. 


Vive  Napoleon. 

Sung  first  as  a  solo  to  sign,  then  repeated  as  chorus. 
From  si(jii,  siinj;  first  as  a  solo,  tlieii  repeatcii  as  chorus. 


145 


^ 


i^u^\  r  firpiri  I 


Quand      j'e'-tais      chez    mon      p^-   re,    Gai,  vi-  ve  le 


f^u^\r^\r:\r\:::\ 


roi!  Quand    j'e-tais       chez  mon        pi-   re,     Gai,         vi-    ve     le 


1 


M: 


■4: 


roi 


i  t 


^-''pircicrpig 


Pe-     ti-      te     Jean-     ne-      ton,       vi-   ve    le 


roi  de  la        rei-  ne.       Pe-        ti-      te        Jeanne-         ton. 


Vi-   ve    Na-     po-     le-    on ! 


M'envoi'-t-:i  la  tdutaine  ) 


(/'«) 


Gai,  vive  le  rui  '  • 

Petite  Jeaniielon,  vive  le  rc»i  de  la  reine. 
Petite  Jeanneton. 
Vive  Napoleon  ! 


Poiu-  pecher  dii  poisson.  ( 
Gai,  vive  le  roi !  * 

Petite  Jeanneton,  etc. 


[bis) 


'.    \ 


■  ■  > 


iiij 


f  ■ 


146 


CHANSONS  CANADIENNES. 

La  foiitaine  est  profonde,  1 

G:ii,  vive  le  roi  !  \  i   ■''> 

Petite  Jeanneton,  t'Ir. 


(bis) 


J'nie  siiis  coulee  an  fond,  | 
Gai,  vive  le  roi !  ) 

Petite  Jeaiinelon.  etc. 

Par  ici-t-ii  y  passe  I  ,, . , 
^  .  .  ,  .  .  I  [pis) 
Gai,  Vive  le  roi !  '  ^     ' 

Petite  Jeaniieton,  etc. 


Trois  cavaliers  barons,  j 

Gai,  vive  le  roi  !         P    '' 
Petite  Jeaniieton, t'/c. 

-Que  donneriez-vous,  belle,  I  ., .  , 
Gai,  vive  le  roi  !  \  ^    ' ' 

Petite  Jeanneton,  I'tc. 

Qui  vous  tir'rait  du  toiul  ?  / 
Gai,  vive  le  roi  !  ) 

Petite  Jeanneton,  etc. 

-Tirez,  tirez,  dit-elle  /  ,  .  , 
^  .  .  ,  .  ,  I  (his) 
Gai,  Vive  le  roi !    ' 

Petite  Jeanneton,  ctt-. 


Apres  (^a,  nous  verrons 

Gai,  vive  le  roi ! 
Petite  Jeanneton,  t-lc. 

Quand  la  bell'  tut  tiree, 

Gai, vive  le  roi  ! 
Petite  Jeanneton,  t'tr. 


(bis) 


(Ns) 


S'en  fut  b.  la  maison,  i  ,,  . , 
Gai,  vive  le  roi !      i  ^    •  ^ 
Petite  Jeanneton,  elc. 


'n  I 


's 


r  di 


1 


r;i 


IPart  J* 


LANGUAGE— EDUCATION 


I' I 


-  i' 


fff^^ 


J  :< 


\ 


\ 


W    \ 


LANGUAGE    EDUCATION 


I 


1 


I  iiAVf:  often  been  asked  if  the  French  spoken  here  is 
not  a  mere  pd/ois,  which  the  ordinary  student  of  French 
could  not  be  expected  to  understand.  I  am  not  a  French 
scholar,  but  I  do  not  think  that  the  language  of  the  Cana- 
dians diflers  greatly  from  that  spoken  by  persons  of  the 
same  degree  of  education  in  France.  Cultivated  persons 
use  good,  and  ignorant  persons  use  bad,  French  here  as 
well  as  there. 

Aside  from  individual  peculiarities  there  appears  to  me 
to  be  less  difference  between  the  written  and  the  spoken 
language  than  might  be  expected.  The  formation  of  the 
verbs  tends,  in  a  measure,  to  keep  the  variations  within 
certain  limits.  1  know  one  man  who  always  says,  "Je 
may  aller,"  in  the  sense  of  "  I  am  just  going  there;"  but 
this  is  scarcely  worse  than  "  I  am  just  going  to  go,"  often 
heard  both  in  Canada  and  the  United  States.  But  if  the 
same  man  wanted  to  say  he  was  ;/()/  going  he  would  use 
a  correct  form.  Another  colloquial  form  with  the  same 
meaning,  "M/r  <///('/"  (without  thtje),  is  very  common. 
Both  expressions  are  old  corruptions  from  ''  Je  vais  y 
aller  r 

Mr.  E.  Gagnon  cites  a  delightfully  incorrect  expression— 
"  Espcre^  uii  instant .  ma  y  aller  quami  et  voiis,"  mean- 
ing, "  Wait  a  moment  and  I  will  go  along  with  you." 
Espeiei  (hope)  is  used  here,  as  it  very  often  is,  in  the 
sense  of  attemie{  (wait),  and  1  have  often  wondered  when 
and  how  to  hope  should  have  come  to  be  considered  the 
equivalent  of  to  wait.    "  Qjiand  et  vans  "  is  equally  diffi- 


ii 


ISO 


LANGUAGE— EDUCATION. 


1^^ 


v^ 


v:\ 


.'t 


cult  to  liaiislale  exactly.  Perhaps  a  better  renJeiint;-  of 
the  whole  phrase  woiiUl  he,  "  Wait  a  moment,  I  will  ^ijo 
there  when  you  ijo,"  the  idea  heinij:  that  two  persons 
would  lio  to^nether  merely  tor  companionship,  whereas 
(ivf<-  vans  (with  you)  mi^ijht  imply  tor  aid,  or  tor  some 
deh'nite  purpose. 

In  some  ot  the  parishes  where  the  Acadians  expelled 
from  Nova  Scotia  settled,  there  are  many  expressions  not 
found  elsewhere,  and  the  pronunciation  is  somewhat  pecu- 
liar. The  speech  ot  the  people  ot  the  Hastern  Townships 
differs  also  from  that  ot  those  on  the  north  side  ot  the  St. 
Lawrence.  On  the  lower  St.  I  awrence  many  curious 
forms  and  expressions  are  in  conmion  use.  Perhaps  this 
may  be  accounted  tor  in  part  by  the  fact  tliat  a  regiment 
of  Highland  Scotch  troops,  disbanded  at  (,)uebec,  settled 
along  that  shore,  I  hey  inter-married  with  the  Canadians 
and  no  doubt  interpolated  into  the  French,  that  of  necessity 
became  habitual  to  them,  many  bjiglish  and  some  ( laelic 
forms  of  speech.  Hie  words  that  they  used  were  French, 
but  their  idioms  and  constructions  were  foreign.  Since 
that  time,  however,  some  of  these  peculiarities  have  worn 
away.  It  may  be  interesting  to  note  in  passing  that  there 
are  now  to  be  found  in  that  region  many  persons  with  dis- 
tinctly Scotch  names,  and  features  which  show  evidence  of 
Scotch  descent,  yet  who  cannot  speak  a  word  of  anything 
but  French. 

Many  Fnglish  words  have  been  inc(^rporated  into  the 
language;  especially,  here  as  everywhere  else,  in  connec- 
tion with  machinery  and  modes  of  communication.  The 
French  people  about  here  commonly  say  "  railroad  "  and 
"  steamboat,"  but  usually  put  a  stress  on  the  last  word  of 
the  compound,  as  if  the  expression  were  not  quite  natural 
to  the  language,  and  quotation  marks  were  implied. 
1  he  railway  men  say  "  switch,"  and  I  have  even  heard  a 


>  y 


LANGDAGE— EDUCATION. 


151 


halt -anglicized  Canadian  say"  shunter''  (English  to  shunt, 
AniL'rican  to  switch,  a  train  or  car).  A  man  at  work  tor 
nie  once  said  that  a  certain  person  was  "  maLiisc  ,)  beater  " 
(hard  to  beat).  When  his  attention  was  called  to  s(»me 
holes  in  the  bo.ud  he  was  using,  he  said  "  /f  r<//'.s-  les  pliig- 
fret  "  (  I  am  going  to  plug  them  up),alth(High  the  common 
French  Init/re  and  hoNiher  would  have  served  equally  well. 
He  took  the  words  heat  and  />//',;',  kidded  "  er,"  and  used 
them  as  French,  v>'  'out  any  reason  whatever. 

1  he  following  will  show  how  foreign  words  may  tind 
their  way  into  a  language  :  At  our  tishing  camp  we  use 
many  baked  beans.  Now  the  French  for  beans  is  fez'es, 
but  baked  beans  are  called  simply  "  beans."  Our  cook 
will  frequently  ask  if  he  is  to  "  lue/fre  Ireniper  Jes  ft-ves 
pour  /litre  Je  heatis,''  that  is,  put  some  beans  in  soak  to 
make  some  henns.  St),  baked  beans  will  be  heans  in 
French,  while  the  unbaked  article  will  continue  to  be 
feves.  !  believe  that  the  same  use  of  the  words  prevails 
in  most  of  the  lumbering  camps. 

Our  habitant  would  not  recognize  potatoes  as  "  pomnies 
lie  terre ;'' \k  would  call  them  patates,  or  more  likely 
pjtiikes.  He  would  not  ■>\y  froid  for  cold,  but  trelie. 
An  expression  that  will  strike  a  stranger  as  being  rather 
curious  is  one  that  sounds  almost  precisely  like  yank.  It 
is  evolved  from  "  //>;/  que  "  (only)  as  in  rien  qiC  uu  (only 
one),  rien  que  Jeiix  (only  two),  spoken  as  "yank  ////," 
"  yAuk  lieiix.''  The  hearer  willquickly  catch  the  speak- 
er's meaning,  but  it  will  puzzle  him  to  know  what  the 
word  is. 

In  spite  of  all  these  changes  and  variations  (and  a  living 
language,  like  any  other  living  thing,  is  constantly  under- 
going change)  1  think  the  language  holds  its  original 
purity  very  well.  A  very  intelligent  Canadian  lady,  after 
a  considerable  residence  in  France,  told  me  that  she  found 


.(i 


152 


LANGUAGE— EDUCATION. 


ill.; 


,'',      I. 


the  speech  of  the  common  people  better  here  than  there, 
and  that  of  the  best  Canadian  speakers  equal  to  that  of  the 
best  French. 

The  lanjuatje  brought  here  by  the  higher  classes  was 
largely  that  of  t  French  Court,  and  that  brought  by  the 
lower  clarses  largely  that  of  Normandy,  which  was  good. 
The  number  of  professional  men,  orticers,  priests,  lawyers, 
notaries,  and  others,  has  always  been  extremely  large  in 
proportion  to  the  population,  and  the  modes  of  speech  of 
so  many  educated  persons  must  have  had  some  influence 
on  the  huiiiuage  of  the  rest. 

The  language  of  the  common  people  may  be  rude  and 
ungrammatical,  as  might  be  expected,  but  it  is  not  by  any 
means  a  pdtois.  It  may  be  more  the  French  of  two  hun- 
dred years  ago  than  that  of  to-day,  but  it  is  still  French, 
and  not  bad  French. 

Most  of  the  Fnglish  residents  here  speak  French  more 
or  less,  if  their  accents  and  grammar  are  generally  incor- 
rect, they  use  the  language  with  readiness  and  fluency. 
There  are  thousands  of  men  who  habitually  do  business  in 
either  language,  apparently  without  tiie  slightest  prefer- 
ence. Cbldren  playing  together  often  speak  English  to 
one  and  French  to  another  in  the  same  breath.  I  have 
often  heard  a  child  of  five  years  talk  Hnglish  to  its  father 
and  French  to  the  person  at  its  side.  In  some  households 
the  two  languages  are  spoken  indiscriminately,  as  any 
trifling  circumstance  may  turn  the  current  of  expression 
into  one  form  or  the  other. 

The  Hnglish  of  French  speakers  is  generally  less  fluent 
than  the  French  of  English  speakers.  There  are  very 
fe'.v  of  either  race  who  can  speak  the  language  of  the  other 
with  equal  ease  and  elegance. 

Among  literary  men  there  are  many  who  have  done 
exceedingly  good  work  in  translating  from  one  language 


i  s 


LANGUAGE— EDUCATION. 


153 


to  the  other,  though  not  necessarily  speaking  both  lan- 
guages tluently.  I  know  of  nothing  tlner  in  the  way  of 
translating  English  into  French  than  Mr.  Louis  Frechette's 
version  of  Mr.  Howells'  "  A  Chance  Acquaintance,"  en- 
titled "  Un  Rencontre."  in  translation  of  French  '.ito 
English  Prof.  C.  D.  G.  Roberts' rendering  of  "  l.es  Anciens 
Canadiens,"  entitled  "  The  Canadians  of  Old,"  leaves  little 
to  be  desired.  Another  translation  of  the  same  book,  by 
Mrs.  Pennee,  is  considered  by  some  to  be  equally  tine. 

Formerly  the  education  of  the  common  people  was 
greatly  neglected,  if  not  positively  discouraged.  Within 
twenty-five  or  thirty  years  1  have  heard  it  argued  and  seen 
it  claimed  in  a  Canadian  newspaper  that  general  education 
was  neither  necessary  nor  desirable.  Since  that  time  a  great 
change  has  taken  place,  and  the  school  system  of  the  Prov- 
ince is  now  pronounced  excellent.  No  cliild  of  the  rising 
generation,  unless  in  some  very  remote  settlement,  can 
have  any  excuse  for  not  knowing  at  least  how  to  read  and 
write.  A  school  teacher  of  my  acquaintance  gives  me  the 
following  sketch  of  the  organization  of  the  educational 
facilities  in  the  Province.  He  refers  of  course  to  the 
French  schools : 


I'll 


hi 


"  The  Canp.dian  schools  are  directed  by  a  committee  of 
Public  Instruction  composed  of  the  Bishop  and  Priests  of 
the  Diocese  of  Quebec,  having  for  its  President  at  this 
time  the  Hon.  Gideon  Oiiimet,  who  acts  as  Superintendent 
and  oversees  the  working  of  all  the  schools  of  the 
Province. 

"  The  schools  are  divided  into  three  principal  classes: 

"  1st.     Academical  Schools. 

••  2d.     Model  Schools. 

"  3d.     Elementary  Schools. 

"The  local  [Provincial]  Government  gives  annually  to 


'A)\ 


1 


i\ 


A 


154 


LA^nUAGE— EDUCATK  iN. 


i|       I' 


', ; 


l!   ?•' 


each  M(x1el  school  a  sum  equal  to  two-thirds  of  the  sum 
received  by  the  Secretary-Treasurer  of  each  cit\'  or  vi!lai;e, 
for  school  purposes.  (The  proceeds  of  a  special  tax  on 
all  tax  payers.) 

"  It  pays  also  a  certain  sum  besides  for  each  Klementary 
school,  based  on  the  number  of  children  of  school  aije. 

"  In  each  parish  there  is  established  a  body  of  school 
connnissioners  whose  duty  it  is  to  build  school  houses  and 
establish  schools  in  each  iinwufissemeii/  where  there  is 
sutlicient  population.  It  is  their  duty  also  to  engage  teach- 
ers and  tix  their  salaries. 

"  In  cities  the  salary  of  a  Professor  in  an  Academical 
school  is  from  four  to  live  hundred  dollars  per  year,  of  a 
teacher  in  a  Model  school,  from  two  to  three  hundred,  and 
in  an  Elementary  school,  from  a  hundred  to  a  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars.  (In  the  country  parishes  the  salaries  of  Model 
and  Elementary  school  teachers  are  considerably  less.) 

"  The  Professors  in  Academical  schools  are  required  to 
teach  the  Greek,  Latin,  English,  and  French  lani^uai^es,  the 
histories  of  France,  England,  and  the  United  States,  draw- 
ing, and  bookkeeping  by  single  and  double  entry. 

"  In  the  Model  schools  the  French  and  English  languages, 
mental  arithmetic,  algebra,  geometry,  the  histories  of  France 
and  England,  the  history  of  i^.anada,  Sacred  history  and  the 
history  of  the  Church,  freehand  diawing,  composition,  and 
bookkeeping  by  single  and  double  entry. 

"  In  the  Elementary  schools  education  is  commenced  by 
teaching  the  alphabet,  a  task  very  diflicult  and  tiresome  in 
the  career  of  the  teacher.  The  spelling  and  putting  together 
of  the  words  follows,  then  ligures  and  the  lirst  ideas  of 
arithmetic.  The  teacher  requires  courage  and  perseverance 
before  his  young  pupils  are  able  to  tell  him  how  much  a 
certain  sum  will  amount  to  with  interest  compounded  for 
ten  years. 


LANGUAGE— EDUCATION. 


155 


"  The  averaj^e  number  of  pupils  for  each  teaclier  in  a 
villa^tje  is  from  twenty  to  thirty. 

"  After  ten  years'  service  every  teacher  has  the  right  to 
draw  from  the  Government,  in  case  of  sickness,  one-tifth 
of  the  average  annual  salary  that  he  has  received  during 
the  time,  for  the  whole  term  of  his  illness. 

"After  thirty-five  years' service  every  teacher  has  the 
right  to  a  pension  equal  to  the  whole  average  annual  sal- 
ary that  he  has  received.  This  pension  continues  during 
his  life,  and  if  he  dies  leaving  a  widow  she  continues  to 
receive  for  her  lifetime  one-half  of  that  sum. 

"  To  be  entitled  to  this  pension,  however,  the  teacher 
must  pay  annually  to  the  pension  fund  of  the  Government 
two  per  cent,  of  his  salary  during  his  term  of  service. 

"  The  special  tax  imposed  on  all  holders  of  real  estate 
for  school  purposes  cannot  be  less  than  live  or  more  than 
fifty  cents  per  hundred  dollars.  Hach  head  of  a  family 
also  pays  for  each  child  attending  school  not  less  than  five 
or  over  tifty  cents  per  month.  Books  and  articles  neces- 
sary for  the  pupils  are  furnished  by  the  parents. 

"  The  general  and  personal  taxes  are  fixed  by  the  school 
commissioners,  and  collected  by  the  Secretary-Treasurer  of 
the  municipality.  It  is  his  duty  also  to  instruct  the  com- 
missioners as  to  their  duties,  to  give  notices  of  meetings  of 
the  municipal  council  (which  are  usually  held  once  a 
month),  and  to  be  generally  the  organ  of  conmiunication 
between  the  municipal  Government  and  the  public." 


hi  many  of  the  larger  parishes  teachers  are  employed 
from  some  one  of  several  Brotherhoods,  of  which  there  aie 
various  orders  that  devote  themselves  mainly  or  wholly 
to  teaching.  They  are  employed  very  cheaply.  In  a 
neighboring  and  quite  large  village  all  the  boys  are  given 
into  the  charge  of  four  of  ihese  Brothers,  who  contract  for 


156 


LANGUAGE— EnrCATION. 


h  '!.   H 


!       I 


the  whole  for  seven  hundred  dollars  a  year.  The  men 
are  provided  with  Iniildinns  by  the  municipality,  but  pay 
all  tiieir  own  expenses.  Three  of  them  only  are  teachers, 
the  other  being  the  cook  and  general  servant.  Being 
bound  to  poverty  they  can  work  cheaply. 

In  that  village  there  are  no  schools  for  girls  except  at 
the  convent.  Day  scholars  pay  lifty  cents  per  month  for 
tuition.    Boarders  pa_,  about  five  dollars  per  month, 

in  many  parishes  it  is  diHicult  to  tind  a  sufiicient  num- 
ber of  suitable  persons  who  can  read  and  write  to  act  as 
school  commissioners,  I  have  heard  some  amusing  anec- 
dotes of  a  commissioner's  experience  in  that  capacity.  In 
one  case  the  little  girls  brought  their  copy  books  to  show 
their  improvement  in  writing,  when  the  poor  man  could  not 
tell  whether  the  books  were  held  right  side  or  wrong  side  up. 

The  commissioners,  however,  with  the  aid  of  the  cure 
and  the  Secretary -Treasurer,  usually  look  well  after  their 
business,  and  an  inefiicient  commissioner  would  probably 
tind  no  more  favor  with  his  neighbors  than  a  committee- 
man of  the  same  stamp  in  a  New  England  village. 

The  trouble  of  course  is  that  the  great  majority  of 
children  leave  school  much  too  young,  and  soon  forget  all 
they  have  learned.  Two  men  in  my  employ,  both  young 
and  of  fair  capacity,  who  once  attended  school  long  enough 
to  learn  to  read,  are  now  only  able  to  study  out  simple 
sentences  with  ditiiculty. 

The  girls  derive,  or  at  least  retain,  more  advantage  from 
their  school  instruction  than  the  boys.  In  the  farmer's 
family  it  is  usually  a  daughter  who  keeps  the  accounts  and 
conducts  the  correspondence.  When  fresh  from  school  or 
convent  she  writes  and  expresses  herself  rather  well,  but 
she  too  forgets,  and  is  glad  to  give  the  pen  and  ink  over 
to  her  own  daughter  as  soon  as  she  has  one  old  enough  to 
take  charge  of  them. 


LANGUAGE— EDUCATION. 


157 


It  is  hardly  necfssary  to  say  that  instruction  is  really 
given  in  only  a  few  of  the  somewhat  formidable  list  of 
subjects  required  of  teachers  in  the  Model  schools.  As 
the  schools  are  under  the  special  supervision  of  the  clergy, 
a  large  part  of  the  school  hours  is  devoted  to  prayers  and 
religious  exercises  and  the  teaching  of  duties  toward  the 
Church. 

While  a  certain  small  amount  of  education  is  much 
more  general  than  formerly,  there  is  no  very  noticeable 
change  in  degree.  There  is  one  thing  taught,  however, 
that  is  not  in  the  curriculum,  and  that  might  be  introduced 
to  advantage  in  many  American  schools,  and  that  is  good 
manners.  They  are  taught  not  only  in  the  schools,  but 
everywhere  else,  and  the  lessons  learned  in  childhood  are 
not  forgotten  in  after  life.  Especially  noticeable  is  the 
respect  of  youth  for  age.  Many  other  nations  might  well 
learn  from  Canadians  that  politeness  is  not  obsequiousness, 
nor  courtesy  servility. 

In  parishes  where  there  is  a  sutiicient  number  of  Protest- 
ant tax  payers  they  may  dissent  and  establish  separate 
schools.  If  there  are  not  more  than  three  they  can  like- 
wise dissent  and  pay  their  taxes  to  dissentient  schools  else- 
where. School  taxes  of  incorporated  companies  go  to  the 
support  of  Roman  Catholic  schools.  As  comparatively 
little  time  is  given  to  religious  exercises  in  the  dissentient 
schools — although  they  have  always  some  such — they  are, 
as  a  rule,  far  more  efilcient  as  regards  secular  education 
than  the  others. 

A  few  facts  indicate  progress  in  the  matter  of  education. 

Our  parish  numbers  about  eighteen  hundred  souls, 
and  has  not  materially  varied  from  that  number  in 
thirty-five  years,  emigration  having  absorbed  all  the  natu- 
ral increase  and  a  trifle  more. 

In  1851  the  sale  of  stamps  at  the  post  office  for  the 

31 


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158 


LANGUAGE— EDUCATION. 


three  months  of  September,  October,  and  November, 
amounted  to  about  eleven  dollars.  At  present  the  3ales 
are  from  forty  to  forty-tive  dollars  monthly. 

In  1861  only  five  or  six  daily  papers  were  received  by 
subscribers.  Now  thirty  copies  of  dailies  are  J'  '"'  ^-^d, 
and  eighteen  weeklies.    (!  refer  to  French  pap"  aid 

1  think  my  informant  must  have  neglected  to  c*.  p^  some 
semi-weekly  and  tri- weekly  papers.) 

There  were  then  two  French  schools  in  the  parish  where 
now  there  are  six.  The  regular  attendance  is  also  larger. 

We  have,  included  in  the  above  population,  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  English  speaking  people,  who  support 
two  additional  schools. 

These  figures  show  a  great  gain  in  the  general  intelli- 
gence, but  they  are  somewhat  deceptive,  after  the  manner 
of  statistics  generally. 

My  reckoning  would  give  (nearly)  one  French  daily 
paper  to  eleven  families  (of  five  persons  each)  in  the  parish. 
But  it  happens  that  they  are  all  received  in  the  village, 
which  numbers  at  least  sixty  families,  and  of  these  six 
persons  (or  families)  receive  not  less  than  twelve,  leaving 
only  eighteen  dailies  for  the  other  fifty -four. 

The  weeklies  give  about  one  paper  to  every  fifteen 
families  of  the  agricultural  population. 

I  do  not  vouch  for  the  entire  exactness  of  my  calcula- 
tions, but  they  give  a  tolerably  fair  approximation.  My 
information  is  derived  mainly  from  post  office  returns. 
Emigration  and  certain  local  causes  account  largely  for 
the  great  increase  in  the  sale  of  stamps. 


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November, 
t  the  oales 

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rgely  for 


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CONVEYANCES 


M 


CONVEYANCES 


The  modes  of  conveyance  in  Canada  are  as  peculiar  as 
the  rest  of  its  adjuncts  of  civilization. 

As  a  winter  vehicle  for  common  use  on  country  roads 
there  is  nothing  that  answers  so  well  as  the  old-fashioned 
cariole.  It  is  neither  handsome  nor  capacious,  but  can 
stand  work  that 
would  wreck  a 
New  England 
sleigh  very  quick- 
ly, and  at  the  same 
time  is  extremely 
comfortable.  it 
sits  low,  on  solid 
wooden  runners 
about  two  inches 
thick,  to  which  the  shafts  are  attached  by  rings  some  two 
and  a  half  inches  in  diameter,  thus  giving  them  a  consider- 
able amount  of  play,  which  is  oftentimes  a  great  advan- 
tage. The  traces  of  the  harness  are  fastened  directly  to 
the  shafts,  so  that  the  draught  comes  where  it  is  most  im- 
mediately needed.  The  arrangement  is  probably  not  so 
easy  for  the  horse  as  where  whiffletrees  are  used.  The 
back  of  the  cariole  is  high,  protecting  the  passenger  from 
cold  winds.  When  two  seats  are  used  the  forward  one  is 
a  foot  higher  than  the  other  and  not  more  than  four 
inches  wide.  The  driver  is  thus  always  ready  to  stand 
up,  or  to  throw  his  weight  to  one  side  of  the  vehicle  or 
the  other,  as  occasion  demands. 


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CONVEYANCES. 


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Well  ensconced  in  furs,  with  a  good  horse  and  a  good 
driver  (f/wrr^Z/Vr— translated  "  charioteer  "  by  one  of  my 
friends)  the  passenger  may  settle  himself  in  a  cariole  for  a 
long  drive  without  anxiety.  He  need  not  concern  himself 
much  about  his  driver,  who  will  be  a  hardy  person,  well 
wrapped  up  and  accustomed  to  all  weathers. 

There  is  one  good  thing  about  travelling  in  Canada,  and 
that  is  that  in  almost  every  village  of  the  slightest  import- 
ance there  may  be  found  in  winter  or  summer  from  two 
to  half  a  dozen  of  these  "  charioteers  "  ready  to  drive  the 

traveller  wherever 
he  wants  to  go, 
and  at  very  rea- 
sonable prices. 

The  old  fash- 
ioned calkbe  has 
entirely  gone  out 
of  use  in  this  re- 
gion, having  been  supplanted  by  the  buckboard.  In  the 
very  hilly  coun- 
try east  of  Que- 
bec it  is  still  in 
use.  In  the  city 
of  Quebec  also 
many    are   em-  '"• 

ployed  as  hack-  <^'''  *^'"'''°"^-  '79o 

ney  vehicles,  and  few  tourists  think  their  visit  complete 
without  a  ride  in  one  of  them. 

The  buckboard  is  in  common  use  in  the  country.  It  is 
not  at  all  like  the  well-known  Adirondack  buckboard, 
but  is  the  simplest  kind  of  a  vehicle.  The  seat,  which 
is  double  (facing  back  and  front),  is  placed  in  the  mid- 
dle of  its  length,  and  as  the  only  spring  comes  from  the 
springiness  of  the  boards,  sometimes  there  is  considerable 


W 


' 


CONVEYANCES. 


163 


jolting ;  but  for  regular  travelling  over  rough  roads  it  is 
more  useful  and  convenient  than  almost  any  other  car- 
riage. 

Ill  speaking  of  means  of  conveyance  the  snowshoe  must 
not  be  forgotten.  Everybody  knows  what  snowshoes  are, 
and  not  a  few  wonder  how  anybody  can  walk  with  them. 
They  are  an  embarrassment  of  course, 
but  less  inconvenient  than  might  be 
supposed.  On  an  unbroken  sheet  of 
snow,  two,  three,  or  four  feet  deep  the 
snowshoe  is  a  necessity.  If  the  snow 
is  tlrm  and  hard  the  shoe  will  leave 
only  a  slight  track,  but  if  the  snow  is 
light  and  soft  it  will  sink  some  inches, 
although  it  will  always  tind  sufhcient 
support  somewhere.  The  required 
step  is  so  different  from  an  ordinary 
walk  that  the  movement  is  at  tlrst  fatiguing,  but  one  soon 
becomes  accustomed  to  it.  It  ought  not  to  be  supposed, 
however,  that  snowshoes  are  an  indispensable  part  of 
every  Canadian's  ordinary  foot-gear.  Farmers  and  vil- 
lagers who  seldom  go  far  into  the  woods  or  fields  in  winter 
rarely  make  use  of  them. 

For  the  snowshoe  no  substitute  has  ever  been  proposed. 
The  Norwegian  ski  would  not  answer  at  all  well  in  this 
country.  A  tirst-rate  pair  of  snowshoes  is  a  rare  treasure. 
If  the  rawhide  netting  is  not  well  stretched  and  bags  under 
the  foot  when  the  snow  is  a  bit  soft  or  damp,  it  makes  hard 
work,  and  is  a  perpetual  annoyance.  If  you  get  a  pair 
that  is  strong,  light,  and  springy,  take  good  care  of  them. 
Dozens  of  plans  for  fastening  on  the  shoes  have  been  con- 
trived, but  the  practised  snowshoer  will  have  none  of  them. 
He  sticks  to  the  old  plan  of  fastening  with  leather  thongs, 
and  will  not  bother  with  straps  and  buckles. 


164 


CONVEYANCES. 


>.  • 


The  three  articles,  the  cariole,  the  snowshoe,  and  the 
bark  canoe,  answer  the  purposes  tor  which  they  are  made 
better  tlian  anytliing  else  yet  invented.  The  bark  canoe 
can  be  equalled  or  surpassed  in  every  respect  but  one,  and 
that  is  the  convenience  with  which  it  can  be  repaired  incase 
of  accident,  with  materials  always  at  hand.  With  other 
materials  canoes  may  be  built  both  stroni;er  and  lighter 
in  proportion  to  their  carrying  capacity,  but  they  are 
not  so  easily  mended  if  they  meet  with  a  serious  mishap. 
With  a  piece  of  bark  from  the  nearest  birch  tree,  a  bit 
of  gum,  and  the  long  slender  root  of  the  spruce,  the  ex- 
perienced canoeman  can  repair  almost  any  amount  of 
damage. 

In  country  villages  dogs  were  formerly  often  used  for 
drawing  moderate  loads,  but  nowadays  their  principal 
occupation  in  that  line  is  the  amusement  of  the  small  boys, 
who  delight  in  harnessing  them  up  and  driving  them.   The 

dogs,  too,  enjoy  the 
fun,  and  like  a  race  as 
well  as  their  young 
masters.  A  large  dog 
is  quite  a  powerful 
animal,  and  can  draw 
on  a  sled  or  toboggan, 
if  he  has  good  footing, 
'^   "  ■  '  fully  as  much    as  a 

man.  An  Indian  has  been  known  to  start  out  with  his 
team  of  four  dogs  harnessed  tandem,  drawing  a  load  con- 
sisting of  a  barrel  of  pork,  two  barrels  of  tlour,  some  small 
parcels  and  himself  on  top  of  all.  Some  may  remember 
when  the  usual  manner  of  distributing  milk  to  customers 
in  Quebec  was  from  hand -carts  managed  by  a  woman  who 
held  the  shafts,  aided  by  a  dog  harnessed  to  the  axle-tree. 
The  use  of  dogs  for  such  purposes  is  now  forbidden  in  the 


\  )  ■•=;^^^ 


CONVEYANCES. 


16S 


cities.  An  old  friend  who  happened  to  see  the  drawinj,^ 
from  which  the  following  cut  was  made  remarked,  "Yes, 
that  is  just  the  way  they  used  to  steal  my  wood  when  I 
lived  out  on  the  Gomin  road." 


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SOME  NATIONAL   CHARACTERISTICS 


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SOME  NATIONAL   CHARACTERISTICS 


Many  visitors  to  Canada  are  amused  to  see  the  out-of- 
door  ovens  that  are  common  all  through  the  country. 
They  are  much  of  the  same  size  and  nature  as  the  old- 
fashioned   brick 

ovens   of    New  --' "'l.-^'' 

England,  but  are 

usually    built    of 

clay  and   set  on 

posts     or    frame 

work   of   timber 

at  a  little  distance 

from    buildings. 

Commonly  they  have  some  kind  of  a  roof  over  them. 

They  have  no  flues,  the  smoke  of  the  fires  for  heating 

escaping  through  the  open  doors. 

Most  of  the  people,  when  not  too  far  away,  buy  their 
bread  from  the  bakers,  but  nearly  all  farmers  have  an 
oven  for  occasional  use.  Some  families  make  their  own 
bread  for  the  sake  of  economy,  although  the  baker's  profits 
are  small  and  his  bread  is  almost  always  good  and  whole- 
some. Country  shopkeepers  keep  bread  on  sale  as  surely 
as  a  New  England  shopkeeper  keeps  ilour.  The  loaves 
weigh  six  pounds  each,  and  are  made  from  a  tlour  that 
does  not  dry  and  so  crumble  quickly.  Warm  bread  is 
almost  never  used,  and  pastry  but  little.  Neither  are 
oatmeal  or  cornmeal  cooked.  I  tind  my  men  in  the  woods 
like  oatmeal  when  1  have  it,  but  they  would  never  think 
of  providing  it  for  themselves.     It  is  the  same  with  baked 


U 


170 


SOME   NATIONAL  CHARACTERISTICS. 


r 
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ii    l< 


beans.  The  men  are  always  fond  of  them,  but  I  have 
rarely  known  a  Canadian  family  to  cook.  them,  in  large 
lumbering  camps,  however,  of  late  years  they  are  very 
much  used,  although  the  favorite  dish  is  still  the  tradi- 
tional pea-soup. 

While  most  of  the  people  may  be  considered  poor  we 
see  but  little  positive  sutfering  among  them,  and  cases  of 
really  grinding,  degrading  poverty  are  extremely  rare.  We 
have  no  almshouses ;  but  aged  or  intirm  persons  or  those 
without  friends  to  support  them  are  sometimes  cared  for 
in  the  hospitals.  There  are  not  many  such,  for  as  families 
are  large  there  is  almost  always  some  one  able  and  willing 
to  furnish  subsistence  to  an  unfortunate  relative,  and  the 
people  generally  are  helpful  to  each  other.  There  is  no 
immigration  into  the  Province,  and  there  are,  therefore, 
no  friendless  or  helpless  foreii.ners  to  be  supported  at  the 
public  expense.  If  one  of  the  poor  of  the  parish  meets 
with  special  misfortune  by  tire  or  accident,  so  that  he  is 
really  in  distress,  a  couple  of  his  neighbors  will  often  ap- 
point themselves  a  committee  to  go  about  and  collect  sup- 
plies for  his  benefit,  and  rarely  return  without  their  sleigh 
well  filled  with  provisions. 

Beggars,  duly  provided  with  certificates  from  their  cures 
that  they  are  worthy  objects  of  charity,  are  not  infrequent, 
and  seem  to  consider  themselves  a  privileged  class.  They 
go  about  from  house  to  house — opening  any  door  without 
knocking — asking  for  charity  '^ pour  V amour  du  bon 
Dieu,"  and  going  on  to  dilate  on  their  claims  to  benevo- 
lence, to  which  no  one  pays  any  attention.  The  house- 
wife goes  in  search  of  the  one  cent  which  is  the  usual 
amount  given,  and  if  she  finds  nothing  less  than  a  five  or 
a  ten  cent  piece  she  coolly  asks  the  beggar  to  change  it  for 
her,  which  he  is  usually  able  to  do.     Many  of  these  beg- 


i« 


SOME   NATIONAL  CHARACTERISTICS. 


171 


gars  have  certain  routes  that  they  follow,  and  make  their 
turns  at  regular  intervals. 

That  Canadians  are  kind  hearted  is  shown  by  this  treat- 
ment  of  their  poor,  and  their  hospitality  is  well  known. 
From  the  highest  to  the  lowest  the  acquaintance  or  the 
stranger  who  comes  to  their  doors  is  welcomed  to  the  best 
the  house  can  at^'ord.  If  they  were  not  gay  and  light 
hearted  they  would  not  be  French,  although  the  manifes- 
tations of  their  gayety  are  perhaps  tempered  by  climate 
and  other  conditions. 

Polite  they  are,  almost  invariably  to  strangers,  and  gen- 
erally among  themselves.  In  all  the  writer's  experience 
among  them  he  has  never,  whether  in  city,  country,  or  in 
the  woods,  met  with  anything  but  courtesy,  and  has  rarely 
witnessed  unaccountable  rudeness.  Only  under  the  excite- 
ment of  drink  are  serious  quarrels  common.  One  way 
they  may  be  considered  quarrelsome,  uit  their  quarrels  are 
such  as  result  in  law  suits  rather  than  in  bodily  injuries. 
They  seem  to  be  very  fond  of  going  to  law.  They  are 
somewhat  free  in  accusing  each  other  of  tricks  and  dis- 
honest dealings  in  small  affairs,  to  which  they  may  be 
somewhat  inclined,  though  possibly  not  more  so  than 
some  other  nationalities.  A  cord  of  wood  will  not  inva- 
riably be  of  full  measure  here  any  more  than  is  a  ton  of 
coal  or  of  ice  always  of  full  weight  in  New  York.  The 
maple  sugar  that  1  receive  for  rents  of  trees  is  not  always 
the  best  that  the  man  makes,  or  free  from  an  admixture 
of  tlour  or  other  foreign  substance ;  but  neither  do  we 
always  find  elsewhere  that  the  worst  apples  are  on  the  top 
of  the  barrel,  or  that  the  quart  box  of  strawberries  is  cer- 
tain to  hold  two  pints.  There  are  rogues  in  all  countries. 
On  the  whole,  the  honest  habitant  in  Canada  is  probably 
equally  as  honest  as  the  honest  farmer  elsewhere. 

I  have  been  told  that  the  most  ingenious  tricks  in  the 


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172 


SOME   NATIONAL  CHARACTERISTICS. 


way  of  petty  cheating  are  those  played  or  attempted  by 
jobbers  of  logs  in  the  woods  in  trying  to  pass  off  poor 
logs  as  good  ones.  Some  that  I  have  heard  of  were  really 
masterpieces  of  trickery.  The  culler,  if  he  knows  his 
business,  is  always  on  the  watch  for  them,  and  is  fairly 
sure  to  find  them  out ;  and  the  curious  part  of  it  is  that 
the  jobber  is  not  in  the  least  ashamed  when  his  trick  is 
detected. 

Although  comparatively  few  of  the  men  are  total  ab- 
stainers, yet  drunkenness  is  not  so  general  that  it  can  be 
considered  to  be  a  national  vice.  In  almost  every  village 
there  will  most  likely  be  some  more  or  less  given  to 
drink,  but  the  great  majority  are  altogether  temperate, 
taking  a  glass  or  two  occasionally,  but  never  drinking  to 
excess.  Licenses  are  required  for  the  sale  of  intoxicating 
liquors,  and  in  most  country  parishes  none  are  granted.  In 
some  places  where  there  is  a  good  deal  of  travel  an  inn- 
keeper may  be  licensed  to  sell  to  guests  but  not  to  the 
public.  This  does  not  prove,  however,  that  at  special  occa- 
sions,— New  Year's  visits,  heated  elections,  and  the  like, — 
liquors  are  not  important  features. 

The  people  are  mainly  industrious,  but  to  a  New  Eng- 
lander  would  not  seem  to  be  hard  worked.  Mechanics  do 
not  try  to  turn  out  the  most  and  the  best  work  possible, 
but  only  enough  to  live  on,  and  just  a  little  more  if  the 
chance  comes.  Their  habits  being  simple  and  their  living 
cheap,  they  are  satisfied  with  little,  and  social  ambitions 
do  not  trouble  them  much.  The  ambitious  youth  goes 
to  the  cities,  where  he  aspires  to  be  a  notary,  a  lawyer,  a 
politician,  or,  best  of  all,  because  safest  and  not  usually 
demanding  arduous  exertions,  a  Government  employe.  If 
he  goes  into  mercantile  life  he  generally  manages  to  hold  a 
fair  position,  and  some  of  the  largest  and  best  of  the  com- 
mercial houses  in  Quebec  are  entirely  Canadian ;  but  heavy 


IM 


■ 


SOME   NATIONAL  CHARACTERISTICS. 


173 


corporate  enterprises  are  generally  controlled    by  other 
nationalities. 

1  have  alluded  in  Part  VI 11  to  the  emigration  to  the 
"  States "  as  a  common  method  among  young  and  enter- 
prising men  and  women  of  bettering  their  condition. 
This  emigration  became  so  common  as  to  alarm  the 
Government,  and  a  few  years  ago  strong  efforts  were  made 
to  induce  the  repatriation  of  emigrants.  These  have 
lately  abated,  and  there  would  seem  to  be  no  occasion  for 
them.  As  the  French  population  regularly  doubles  in  less 
than  thirty  years,  it  would  seem  to  be  a  sufficient  problem 
to  provide  for  the  increase.  Where  some  two  and  a  half 
millions  of  people  in  1920  and  five  millions  in  1950  are  to 
find  homes  in  this  province,  is  not  quite  clear.  There  is 
land  enough  for  them  all,  but  only  a  small  proportion  of 
it  is  desirable.  The  farming  here  is  only  poorly  remuner- 
ative at  best.  Diversified  occupations  and  industries  will 
absorb  a  good  many,  but  it  looks  as  if  emigration  would 
need  to  continue  to  be  large. 

That  a  hardy,  temperate,  prudent,  and  fairly  industrious 
people  should  not,  even  if  not  particularly  energetic  or 
ambitious,  have  made  some  progress,  could  hardly  be  pos- 
sible. Those  who  knew  the  Canadian  people  forty  or  fifty 
years  ago  will  easily  see  a  difference  now. 

My  personal  intercourse  with  the  people  began  in  my 
boyhood,  and  for  the  last  ten  years  I  have  lived  almost  en- 
tirely among  them.  1  have  always  found  them  civil,  oblig- 
ing, and  excellent  neighbors.  1  could  (and  did)  heartily 
join  with  an  English  speaking  Canadian  friend  who 
summed  up  a  discussion  of  their  qualities  by  saying  they 
were  "not  a  bad  lot." 

I  am  not  blind  to  some  defects  in  the  national  charac- 
ter ;  but  neither,  I  hope,  do  1  fail  to  recognize  their  many 
good  qualities,  I  would  rather  write  pages  about  these 
13 


i,  ^' 


h  i. 


■     I 


174 


SOME   NATIONAL  CHARACTERISTICS. 


I 


'll  'v 


H. 


than  give  a  single  line  of  ungracious  criticism  to  a  people 
among  whom  I  have  found  so  many  friends,  and  been  so 
kindly  treated. 

Some  Americans  seem  to  have  the  idea  that  the  French 
Canadians  still  have  an  attachment  to  France  and  are  not 
loyal  to  Great  Britain.  This  is  a  mistake.  It  is  true  that 
the  loyalty  of  the  common  people  is  of  rather  a  neutral 
character  and  perhaps  would  not  stand  a  great  strain,  but 
they  have  no  attachment  to  France  beyond  that  almost 
inseparable  from  a  common  race,  language,  and  religion. 
As  individuals  they  seem  rather  to  dislike  the  French  when 
brought  into  contact  with  them.  Our  good  Nazaire,  who 
is  not  at  all  a  bad  type  of  the  Canadian  habitant,  cordially 
detests  them,  as  do  many  others  whom  1  have  met. 

The  Canadians  have  no  reason  for  disloyalty  to  Britain. 
All  their  rights  have  been  well  respected,  and  they  have 
received  their  full  share — many  Englishmen  think  far  too 
large  a  share — of  honors  and  favors  from  the  Crown. 
Provincial  politicians  sometimes  think  or  pretend  to  think 
otherwise,  but  their  claims  are  probably  put  forward  mainly 
with  the  hope  of  securing  some  personal  popularity  among 
their  compatriots.  It  is  only  fair  to  say  that  the  people 
generally  pay  comparatively  little  attention  to  these  pol- 
iticians. They  know  there  is  little  or  nothing  of  which 
they  can  reasonably  complain,  and  they  are  quite  well  con- 
tented under  British  rule,  and  appreciate  the  advantages 
they  derive  from  it.  They  do  not  like  the  Englishman 
any  more  than  do  other  conquered  races,  but  they  get 
along  very  well  with  him  and  try  to  get  all  they  can  out 
of  him. 

The  general  sentiment  was  quite  well  expressed  in  the 
reply  of  a  priest  to  an  English  lady  who  wished  to  know 
the  feelings  of  the  clergy  towards  the  British  Govern- 


mm 


SOME   NATIONAL  CHARACTERISTICS. 


175 


•  a  people 
id  been  so 

lie  French 
id  are  not 
'  true  that 
a  neutral 
train,  but 
at  almost 
I  religion, 
nch  when 
aire,  who 
cordially 
t. 

)  Britain. 
ley  have 
k  far  too 
Crown, 
to  think 
i  mainly 
y  among 
e  people 
lese  pol- 
'f  which 
'ell  con- 
''antages 
lishman 
hey  get 
can  out 


ment :    "  We  are  quite  well  satistied  so  long  as  you  let  us 
alone." 

A  trilling  circumstance  may  give  an  idea  how  little  some 
of  the  people  know  or  care  about  (heir  British  connection. 
1  told  an  employe  that  1  expected  certain  visitors  on  the 
Queen's  Birthday  (La  fete  de  la  Reiiie).  He  replied  : 
"  La  fefe  de  la  Reine,  c'esl  la  4  Juil/ef,  n'esl-te  pa.^?" 
(The  Queen's  Birthday,  that  is  the  4th  of  July,  is  it  not  ?) 
He  was  not  less  intelligent  than  three  quarters  of  the  men 
of  his  class,  although  it  is  probable  that  the  majority  would 
know  that  the  two  dates  were  not  the  same.  But  few, 
however,  would  know  why  the  1st  of  July  (Dominion 
Day)  is  a  Can;i  lian  festival,  and  very  few  indeed  know 
why  Americans  celebrate  the  4th  of  July.  Official  efforts 
to  make  the  people  look  upon  Dominion  Day  as  an  im- 
portant point  in  their  history  entirely  fail  of  effect  with 
the  people  in  general. 

Of  annexation  sentiment  there  is  little  worth  mention- 
ing. Most  of  the  people  think  Canada  would  be  more 
prosperous  under  the  United  States  Government,  but  the 
feeling  is  not  strong  enough  to  make  them  seek  to  disturb 
the  existing  order  of  things. 


I  in  the 
0  know 
iovern- 


ill\ll  /'. 


.'i 


;  /' 


it  ).>    ■ 


yUKlC-H'Tb 


i 


-4\ 


part  i'mrir 


A  WINTER  EXCURSION 


:i 


II 


u 


$\ 


fcvli 


'   I 


m  < 


I': 


I 

'l. 


i 


I 


illii 


'  i  i 


L^ 


a^ttyjfe 


A  WINTER  EXCURSION 


My  brotlier  and  I  have  a  commodious  fishing  camp  or 
lodge  on  die  shore  of  Lake  Clair,  already  mentioned,  to 
which  we  often  make  excursions.  Though  these  visits  are 
not  properly  Canadian  Life,  yet  it  is  largely  through  them 
that  we  have  come  into  close  contact  with  our  habitant 
friends.  I  therefore  make  no  apologies  for  including  in 
this  volume  the  story  of  one  of  my  first  excursions  to  our 
camp  with  my  family.  The  cabin  was  then  a  small  and 
simple  atTair,  but  has  since  grown  considerably,  responding 
to  the  constantly  increasing  demands  of  our  friends. 

After  one  of  my  visits  to  the  lake  I  said  at  home  that 
the  next  time  I  went  1  would  take  my  little  girls  along. 
They  had  already  been  on  a  camping  expedition  with  me 
the  previous  autumn,  and  well  remembered  its  delights. 

The  novelty  of  camping  in  winter  pleased  them,  and 
they  were  ready  to  try  it.  1  began  to  attempt  to  back  out 
of  my  agreement,  but  it  was  too  late.  I  was  compelled  to 
admit  that  there  were  no  insurmountable  obstacles  in  the 
way.  The  lumbermen  had  opened  roads  by  which  we 
could  drive  to  the  very  door  of  the  cabin.  This  was  a  round- 
about way,  but  there  was  a  much  shorter  one,  though  part 
must  be  done  on  foot.  The  girls  were  not  afraid  of  snow- 
shoes,  however  ;  they  had  been  amusing  themselves  with 
them  for  weeks.  Moreover,  they  were  young,  fresh,  and 
vigorous.  The  prospect  of  a  long  walk  did  not  disturb  them 
in  the  least.  Of  course  1  gave  way,  and  their  mother, 
whose  joining  the  expedition  was  quite  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, did  the  same. 

We  decided  on  the  shorter  route  for  ourselves  and  the 


iso 


A   WINTER  EXCURSION. 


2' 


longer  one  for  the  baggage  and  provisions.  While  we 
were  maicing  preparations  there  came  on  a  heavy  thaw. 
Soft  weather  in  the  month  of  January,  with  torrents  of 
rain  and  occasional  thunder-storms,  lasted  nearly  a  week. 
Such  a  time  was  never  known  in  the  country  before. 
The  ice  gorged  in  many  places,  and  the  rivers  overflowed 


their   banks  for  miles.     Some   houses  were  half  under 
water,  and  people  went  about  in  boats. 

Of  course  we  waited  fcr  cold  weather,  and  in  good  time 
it  came.  When  at  length  we  were  ready  to  start  we  did 
not  complain  of  the  cold,  although  the  thermometer  stood 
at  ten  below  zero.  We  dress  and  prepare  for  cold  weather, 
and  it  must  be  very  cold  indeed  to  prevent  us  from  going 
about.  In  fact,  we  experience  less  discomfort  from  twenty 
or  even  forty  degrees  below  freezing  than  from  one  of  our 
New  England  northeasterly  storms,  when  the  thermometer 
is  scarcely  at  the  freezing  point.  Snow-storms  one  expects 
and  does  not  mind  them  much  unless  they  are  extremely 
severe  and  with  high  winds.  Once  in  a  while,  however,  one 
comes  that  blocks  up  everything  for  days  together. 


f 


..■jgaaaiM 


A  WINTER  EXCURSION. 


ISI 


While  we 
^ivy  thaw, 
torrents  of 
ly  a  week. 
I'y  before. 
)vertlowed 


f  iiiicfer 

od  time 
we  did 
?r  stood 
leather, 
going 
twenty 
of  our 
onieter 
xpects 
emely 
?r,  one 


Our  delay  had  given  so  much  time  to  talk  of  our  excur- 
sion, that  several  of  our  friends  accepted  our  invitation  to 
visit  us  at  the  camp.  We  promised  to  accommodate  them 
all,  if  they  would  not  come  too  many  at  once.  We  could 
offer  a  nice  bed  to  each  of  six  persons,  but  beyond  that, 
age,  sex,  and  condition  might  interfere  with  convenient 
lodging.  The  little  girls  proposed  to  sleep  two  in  a  bed, 
and  even  larger  ones  offered  to  submit  to  the  same  incon- 
venience rather  than  not  go. 

It  was  strange  how  the  idea  of  a  winter  camping  party 
fascinated  them.  Soon  the  question  came  to  be,  not  who 
should  go,  but  who  would  be  obliged  to  stay  at  home. 

I  decided  to  take  along  my  little  camp-stove  and  my 
faithful  old  double  tent  that  had  never  failed  to  give  me 
all  the  room  1  wanted.  Not  too  large  for  two  or  too 
small  for  six— he  who  is  not  happy  in  it  is  not  a  woods- 
man, and  I  do  not  want  him  with  me. 

A  tent  in  mid- winter,  especially  for  a  sleeping  apartment, 
does  not  sound  attractive ;  but  with  my  little  stove  it  was  en- 
tirely comfortable,  and  proved  a  popular  resort  when  we  had 
need  of  it.  As  it  happened,  the  children  and  young  girls 
packed  themselves  so  closely  in  the  beds,  that,  as  a  rule, 
only  the  guides  were  tinally  obliged  sometimes  to  sleep  in 
it ;  but  there  would  have  beeti  no  hardship  in  it  for  any  one. 
Day  and  evening  it  was  a  favorite  lounging-place  for  all 
hands. 

So,  after  the  rain  had  ceased,  and  after  we  had  had 
two  days  and  nights  of  good  solid  zero  weather,  the  gii  .'s 
and  1  started  off  in  two  carioles,  with  many  expressions  of 
surprise  at  the  hardihood  of  our  undertaking,  and  many 
dpubting  wishes  for  a  "  ban  voyage  "  from  the  neighbors. 

Such  an  expedition  was  not  at  all  in  accordance  with 
the  notions  of  the  French  people.  Aside  from  the  care- 
fully encouraged  view  that  the  holidays  of  the  Church 


I 


182 


A    WINTEK   EXCURSION. 


it  * 


offer  sufficient  recreation,  and  that  none  that  the  Church 
does  not  take  the  leading  part  in  are  desirable,  there  might 
seem  something  like  impropriety  in  a  party  of  young  and 
old,  male  and  female,  going  away  by  themselves  on  a 
camping  expedition.  Such  a  thing  was  never  known  in 
our  parish.  The  nearest  thing  to  it  was  perhaps  that  in 
the  time  of  making  maple  sugar,  a  party  might  be  made 
up  to  visit  a  sugar  camp  for  a  day.  True,  my  original 
party  was  only  my  own  family,  but  our  visitors  promised 
to  be  of  various  families  and  ages.  We  cared  little  for 
the  Canadian  ideas,  for  we  had  been  accustomed  to 
do  as  we  pleased  among  the  people  without  asking 
whether  they  liked  it  or  not.  Americans  ourselves,  we 
had  issued  our  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  lived 
up  to  it.  1  am  not  aware  that  we  ever  did  anything  to 
which  they  could  object,  but  we  paid  so  little  regard 
to  their  customs,  that  I  suspect  that  they  always  felt  a 
little  uncertainty  as  to  what  we  might  be  going  to  do 
next. 

The  first  stage  of  our  journey  was  a  drive  of  nine  miles. 
The  roads  were  not  good,  but  were  frozen  hard,  and  the 
carioles  stood  them  well.  We  made  the  distance  without 
accident  and  within  an  hour,  scarcely  realizing  whether  it 
was  cold  or  not.  We  did  manage  to  strike  a  "  bali{e," 
which  nearly  tore  the  sleeve  out  of  the  fur  coat  of  one  of 
the  girls,  but  the  arm  in  it  was  so  small  that  no  harm  was 
done. 

As  soon  as  the  snow  becomes  deep  the  roads  must  be 
"  balized,"  or  after  a  heavy  snow-fall  the  poor  horses 
would  be  unable  to  tind  them.  The  narrow  track  is 
marked  out  with  branches  or  saplings,  with  turn-outs, 
also  "  balized,"  at  convenient  distances.  As  the  drifting 
snow  completely  tills  up  the  road,  there  is  nothin^i  else  to 


iK 


<~i    fi. 


I 


A   WINTER   EXCURSION. 


183 


ihc  Church 
here  might 
yoiiiio'  and 
elves  on  a 

known  in 
ips  that  in 
t  be  made 
y  origin:i] 

promised 
I  h'ttle  for 
onied   to 
t    asking- 
-Ives,  we 
ind  lived 
thing  to 
-    regard 
's  felt  a 
g  to  do 

e  miles, 
and  the 
without 
ether  it 
>ali^e," 
one  of 
'm  was 

I  list  be 
horses 
ick  is 
-outs, 
ifting 
Ise  to 


distinguish   it  from   the  soft  snow  on  either  side  of  it. 
Roads,  ditches,  and  tields  are  all  on  the  same  level. 

As  long  as  the  horse  feels  the  hard  track  under  his  feet 
he  will  trot  quietly  along,  even  if  there  is  no  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  it.  If  another  vehicle  is  met  where  no 
turn-out  is  marked  it  is  not  easy  to  induce  him  to  leave 
the  path.  The  experienced  animal,  when  compelled  to  it, 
will  step  olT  as  gently  as  possible,  making  no  struggle, 
but  waiting  peaceably  until  the  other  sleigh  has  passed. 
Then,  perhaps,  he  will  throw  himself  back  on  his  haunches, 
raise  both  fore  feet  together,  and  bring  them  back  into 
the  road  again. 

The  shantymen's  horses,  on  roads  where  there  is  not 
much  passing,  learn  to  put  their  feet  into  the  tracks  made 
by  their  predecessors.  Consequently,  although  the  sleigh 
track  may  be  very  good,  your  horse  can  take  no  longer 
steps  and  go  no  faster  than  the  one  that  tlrst  opened  the 
road.     Everywhere  else  he  would  sink  deep  into  the  snow. 

At  the  end  of  our  drive  the  faithful  Nazaire  met  us, 
and  taking  our  extra  wraps  in  a  skilfully  made  up  pack 
on  his  strong  and  willing  shoulders,  led  the  way  to  our 
next  post.  It  was  up  a  river,  on  snow  and  ice,  but  the 
frozen  crust  was  not  strong  enough  to  bear  our  weight, 
and  snowshoes  were  called  into  use.  We  knew  the  current 
was  very  strong  and  the  ice  would  be  thin  at  best.  It  would 
hold  under  a  broad  snowshoe,  but  the 
unshod  foot  would  be  liable  to  break 
through.  On  the  swift  rivers  the 
merest  film  of  ice  serves  to  support 
enough  snow  to  conceal  its  treacher- 
ous nature.  With  the  aid  of  snow- 
shoes  progress  was  easy,  when  with- 
out them  it  would  have  been  im- 
possible. _:=^-^'-5>'y' 


il 


.^l 


^! 


B 


I  > 


li 


I; 


t  ■.    i : 


5' 


I  '     ) 


H\ 


184 


A  WINTER   EXCURSIOrJ. 


The  distance  we  had  to  go  was  vaguely  described  as 
'' t rentable  d'arpents"  (about  thirty  arpents).  if  1  had 
been  told  it  was  a  "  good  piece,"  I  should  have  had  quite 
as  good  an  idea,  for  I  have  found  the  Canadian's  "  tren- 
taine  d\irpents  "  a  most  indetinite  measure.  The  arpent 
is  a  measure  both  of  length  and  superficies,  its  length 
being  equal  to  180  French  or  192  English  feet.  We 
reckon  twenty-eight  of  them  to  a  mile.  Of  late  years 
the  Government  has  made  all  its  surveys  in  English 
acres,  which,  surveyors  tell  me,  is  far  the  most  convenient 
measure,  as  it  divides  better  into  fractions ;  but  formerly 
the  arpent  was  universally  used.  One  of  my  girls  in- 
sisted that  thirty  arpents  meant  three  miles,  while  another 
declared  they  meant  four.  The  distance  was  really  about 
a  mile  and  a  half,  and  we  made  it  without  a  break,  al- 
though the  girls  were  glad  of  a  rest  at  the  end  of  the  road. 
Our  stop  was  made  at  a  "  rollway,"  or  place  where  the 
logs  are  piled  ready  for  the  drive  in  the  spring.  Several 
acres  of  ground  were  covered  with  them,  the  result  of  the 
winter's  work. 

From  here  we  turned  into  an  almost  unbroken  forest. 
Logs  had  been  made  there  for  many  years,  but  to  the  un- 
practised eye  the  aspect  of  the  ground  was  just  what  it 
had  been  from  time  immemorial.  Some  stumps  may  be 
seen,  but  the  mere  passer-by  would  hardly  know  that  man 
had  ever  passed  that  way.  Following  up  the  "  maitre 
cheinin,"  or  main  road  of  the  lumbermen,  we  found  it 
smooth,  firm,  and  in  beautiful  order,  as  all  these  roads 
should  be,  for  the  loads  to  be  drawn  are  heavy.  A  good 
deal  of  engineering  ingenuity  is  often  displayed  in  locat- 
ing the  lumber  roads,  for  there  must  be  no  up  grades,  and 
in  such  a  hilly  country  as  this  it  is  not  easy  to  avoid  them ; 
and  a  long  dtftour  is  ticquently  necessary  in  order  to  avoid 
even  a  slight  rise.     On  this  "  maitre  chemin  "  we  carried 


ii 


^ 


A   WINTER    EXCURSION. 


185 


our  snowshoes  on  our  backs,  where  they  seemed  much 
lighter  than  they  had  done  on  our  feet.  The  way  was  up, 
up,  up,  all  up  hill  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  up  the  hills  that 
the  logs  had  come  down. 

We  reached  the  lumbermen's  camp  just  as  the  men  had 
finished  dinner,  and  great  was  their  astonishment  at  seeing 
these  three  girls  away  there  in  the  woods  on  a  holiday 
excursion,  in  winter.  The  Canadians  are  almost  invariably 
polite  and  respectful,  but  if  those  girls  were  stared  at  it  is 
no  wonder.  Nazaire  and  1  were  well  known  to  the  fore- 
man of  the  camp,  and  we  received  every  possible  courtesy. 
We  were  cordially  invited  to  dine,  but  although  the  girls 
were  glad  of  rest  and  shelter,  they  could  not  manage  the 
pea  soup,  which  indeed  looked  as  if  a  strong  stomach 
would  be  needed  to  digest  it.  Nazaire  and  I,  however, 
made  a  hearty  meal  without  hesitation. 

Our  way  lay  only  a  little  farther  on  the  lumbermen's 
roads  and  then  we  put  on  the  snowshoes  again.  It  was  still 
up  hill,  and  soon  my  little  barometer  said  we  were  four- 
teen  hundred  feet  above  our  starting  point.  The  after- 
noon  was  delightful,  a  most  perfect  winter's  day ;  cold, 
but  not  too  cold,  as  indeed  it  seldom  is  too  cold  in  the 
woods  for  walking.  The  lights  and  the  shadows  of  the 
trunks  and  branches  on  the  white  snow  were  charming, 
and  many  were  the  expressions  of  delight  and  surprise 
that  I  heard  from  the  girls  behind  me,  as  we  wound  our 
way,  Indian  file,  in  and  out  among  the  trees.  Nazaire  led 
and  1  followed,  to  beat  a  good  track  for  the  others.  He 
was  supremely  happy  at  hearing  the  girls'  cheerful  voices, 
and  often  turned  his  pleased  face  round  to  me  with  the 
exclamation,  "  (2/''^//^5  soiit  heureuses!"  (How  happy 
they  are ! ) 

After  half  an  hour's  walk  up  hill  we  began  to  go  down, 
and  faster  than  we  had  gone  up.    The  girls  got  many 


186 


A  WINTER  EXCUR 


'»  '  ! 


I  i 


I     ! 


tumbles,  but  they  were  dressed  for  them,  and  a  little  fall 
in  soft  snow  hurts  nobody.  They  already  had  had  a 
long  walk,  but  were  not  so  tired  that  their  lively  chatter 
was  checked,  or  the  delights  of  the  way  were  lessened.  Still 
to  the  unpractised  eye  there  was  no  sign  that  man  had  ever 
passed  that  way,  and  for  part  of  the  distance  none  but 

hunters  and  explorers  prob- 
ably ever  had  passed.  The 
loggers  had  not  reached  that 
region,  and  nobody  else  had 
any  business  there.  We  were 
opening  a  new  path  to  our 
camp,  shaping  our  way  by 
the  lay  of  the  land  and  the 
direction  of  the  streams. 
Nazaire  knew  all  about  these, 
and  where  he  goes  1  follow 
without  hesitation.  This  time 
I  knew  we  could  not  go  far 
wrong,  for  we  had  only  to 
cross  the  divide  that  sepa- 
rates two  systems  of  water- 
courses, and  the  distance  was 
not  great.  It  was  to  avail  ourselves  of  newly  opened  roads 
thai  we  were  taking  this  way  to  our  camp,  as  well  as  to 
avoid  the"t/o5  Je  chevnl,"  ov  "horsc-b^ck,"—!  narrow 
ridge,  scarcely  wide  enough  for  a  single  footpath,  with 
deep  and  broken  gullies  on  either  side,  and  in  many  places 
steep  and  hard  to  climb,  as  my  legs  found  out  when  they 
were  a  good  deal  younger  than  they  are  now. 

Not  very  far  from  the  top  of  the  divide  we  came  to  a 
''petit  lac  rond"  (little  round  lake),  round  as  if  diawn 
with  a  compass.  Our  footpath  had  always  led  us  across 
this  lake,  but  reaching  it  from  another  direction  when 


l<  i. 


a  little  fall 
Iiad  had  a 
'ely  chatter 
iened.  Still 
in  had  ever 
•  none  but 
rers  prob- 
5sed.     The 
ached  that 
Y  else  had 

We  were 
th  to  our 
■  way  by 
i  and  the 
t  r  e  a  m  s . 
out  these, 

i  follow 
This  time 
ot  go  far 

only  to 
lat  sepa- 
)f  water- 
ance  was 
ed  roads 
2ll  as  to 

narrow 
th,  with 
y  places 
len  they 


i  i: 


me  to  a 
^  drawn 
5  across 
1  when 


A 


p 


t  >m; 


LU 

< 


UJ 

x; 

H- 
O 

z 

O 
U 


rlM' 


rfTTB    i,*T^. 


A   WINTER    EXCURSION. 


187 


it 


OJ 


UJ 

x 
f- 

o 

2 

CO 

o 

Qi 
U 


coming  by  the  '%/a.s"  </f'  chevaiy  It  is  only  a  bit  ol  a  lake 
almost  on  the  top  of  tiie  hill,  but  what  a  lake  it  is  for 
trout !  We  had  no  sooner  crossed  the  Round  Lake  than  we 
began  to  go  down  again.  We  could  hear  the  pretty  little 
stream,  the  outlet  of  tie  lake,  rippling  and  murmuiing 
under  its  coiting  of  snow,  and  telling  us  the  way  to  Lake 
Clair.  In  a  few  minutes  more  we  could  see,  across  the  lake, 
the  smoke  from  our  cabin.  But  here  was  the  hardest 
part  of  our  journey.  There  was  a  strong  wind  sweeping 
down  the  whole  length  of  the  lake,  and  the  entire  surface 
was  covered  with  smooth  ice,  with  here  and  there  patches 
of  snow.  That  wind  had  to  be  faced.  Cheeks  and  noses 
sufTered  somewhat,  but  there  were  no  frost  bites,  and  in  a 
short  time  the  doors  of  oin'  cabin  opened  to  us. 

The  only  other  gentleman  of  all  those  who  had  prom- 
ised to  visit  us  who  was  able  to  come  at  that  time,  was  a 
somewhat  heavy  man,  who  had  then  no  liking  for  snow- 
shoes.  (Later  in  the  season,  however,  i  found  that  he  was 
taking  lessons  in  using  both  snowshoes  and  toboggan  with 
a  good  deal  of  enthusiasm,  and  that  one  of  our  fellow- 
boarders  often  came  late  to  her  supper.  But  that  has 
nothing  to  do  with  this  story.)  He  had  come  by  the  long, 
tedious,  and  roundabout  way  by  which  he  could  reach  the 
cabin  without  walking,  and  brought  with  him  all  the  good 
things  we  had  provided  for  our  excursion,  so  that  we  were 
not  anxious  about  our  supper.  Owing  to  our  long  delays 
at  the  lumbermen's  camp  and  elsewhere  he  had  arrived 
before  us ;  but  he  had  nothing  to  tell  about  charming 
walks  through  woods,  dinners  at  logging  camps,  or  of 
rushing,  invisible  streams.  He  had  only  sat  still  in  his 
"  berlim  "  (pung)  and  had  seen  nothing. 

The  cabin  was  new,  clean,  and  warm,  and  the  luxurious 
beds  of  tir  branches  smelled  deliciously.  The  delight  of 
the  children  knew  no  bounds.    "  Why,  it  smells  just  like 


188 


A   WINTER   EXCURSION. 


Christmas,"  said  the  little  one,  as  the  sweet  frajjrance 
reniiikied  her  of  our  Christmas  tree.  "  Aren't  we  glad 
we  came  !  "  and  "  Is  n't  this  just  splendid  !  "  were  among 
the  remarks  they  made,  mingled  with  thanks  to  me  for 
bringing  them,  which  were  more  than  I  deserved,  for  I  had 
counted  on  enjoying  their  enjoyment.  The  two  small  ones 
speedily  appropriated  a  bed  for  themselves,  and  the  larger 
one  another,  and  they  luxuriated  on  the  springy  boughs. 

Some  trout  had  been  caught  for  us  by  the  guardian  of 
the  c'.mp,  and  the  good  Nazaire  set  about  cleaning  and 
cooking  them  as  if  long  walks  and  heavy  packs  were  things 
he  had  never  heard  of.  The  tish  were  excellent,  and  it 
required  a  goodly  number  to  satisfy  our  appetites.  The 
trout  of  Lake  Clair  are  not  large,  although  their  delicious 
tlavor  is  proverbial.  Their  average  weight  is  about  three- 
quarters  of  a  pound,  while  the  trout  of  the  Round  Lake 
run  to  one  and  a  half  pounds,  and  those  of  Lake  Croche, 
another  lake  near  by  lo  fully  two  pounds.  Some  good 
fishermen  say  that  a  three-quarter  pound  trout  of  Lake 
Clair  gives  as  good  sport  as  two-pound  trout  elsewhere. 
They  are  strong  and  active,  colors  bright,  and  flesh  tirm  and 
red.   Cooked  by  Nazaire  they  are  certainly  delicious  eating. 

All  hands  were  more  or  less  fatigued,  and  bedtime  came 
early.  Screens  of  blankets  made  a  dressing-room,  with 
all  the  privacy  of  a  Pullman  sleeping  car  at  the  least. 
Later  on,  when  we  had  more  company,  including  several 
young  ladies,  the  men  retired  to  the  tent  while  toilets 
were  being  made,  but  this  time  the  blankets  had  to  sutlice. 
When  the  children  announced  themselves  ready  1  remov^'d 
some  of  the  screens,  and  the  men  tumbled  into  their  berths 
very  much  as  they  stood.  For  this  night  Nazaire  was 
commissioned  to  look  after  the  heating  apparatus,  and  he 
did  it  most  et^ectually.  How  he  and  Simeon  managed  to 
sleep  in  the  places  allotted  to  them,  on   the  floor  near 


A   WINTER   EXCURSION. 


189 


the  stove,  I  cannot  tell.  Even  we  who  h:id  the  most  com- 
fortable places  were  almost  ro;isted  until  I  ^ot  up  and 
opened  the  door  and  dampened  the  tire.  And  this  with  a 
thermometer  at  twenty  degrees  below  zero  !  If  any  one 
had  feared  we  should  sutfer  from  cold  he  should  have 
been  in  our  cabin  that  night ;  in  fact  we  suffered  niujh 
more  from  heat  than  from  cold  all  tlirough  our  excursion. 
Poor  Nazaire  was  often  called  from  his  bed  with  "  Oh ! 
Na^aire,  il  fait  chaiui,  c'est  terrible  "  (it  is  terribly  hot). 
Even  the  smallest  girl,  who  knew  scarcely  any  French  at 
all,  soon  learned  to  say,  "  Trap  cbaiul,  Ni^aire,  trop 
chaud  "  (too  hot,  Nazaire,  too  hot). 

At  length  he  began  to  learn  that  we  were  not  all  such 
salamanders  as  himself.  This  time  the  little  ones  slept 
like  tops,  and  so  did  1  after  the  cabin  got  cooled  down  a 
little.  That  Nazaire  slept  there  could  be  no  doubt.  When 
he  goes  to  sleep  he  usually  announces  the  fact. 

Going  to  bed  early  involves  being  up  betimes,  and  be- 
fore six  the  next  morning  Nazaire  had  the  kettle  boiling, 
and  coffee  was  served  all  round  preparatory  to  breakfast. 
Toilets  made,  all  hands  hurried  their  breakfasts  of  bread 
and  bacon  in  order  to  go  fishing,  for  they  could  have  no 
more  trout  until  some  were  caught.  One  of  the  girls, 
however,  who  had  brought  her  skates,  found  the  smooth 
ice  too  tempting,  and  soon  deserted  us.  She  afterwards 
caught  more  trout  than  any  of  the  others,  but  this  day  the 
youngest  of  all  was  champion,  as  she  was  the  most  patient 
and  enthusiastic  of  tisheis.  in  the  afternoon  she  kept  at 
it  until  the  sun  went  down,  and  her  trim  little  figure  out 
on  that  waste  of  ice  and  snow  made  a  striking  picture,  set 
in  a  frame  of  dark,  wooded  hills,  and  seen  in  the  glow  of 
one  of  our  most  brilliant  sunsets.  Some  of  our  winter 
sunsets  in  Canada  are  truly  magnificent.  An  artist  friend 
who  visited  us  grew  enthusiastic  Qver  them.    He  had  seen 


\l> 


190 


A  WINTER   EXCURSION, 


I'    \ 


yn 


\  \ 


t>  i* 


few  more  beautiful,  even  in  Italy.  He  went  into  raptures 
over  the  absolute  purity  of  the  atmosphere  and  its  won- 
derful clearness. 

Our  cabin  was  located  for  a  view  of  those  sunsets  both 
in  summer  and  winter.  Built  on  the  water's  edge  and 
facing  exactly  south  as  it  does,  there  are  two  rounded  hills 
nearly  in  front  of  it  whose  tree- tops  catch  the  earliest  rays 
of  the  morning  sun,  while  the  camp  itself  is  in  shadow, 
and  the  long  point  on  our  left  throws  its  shade  over  half 
the  lake  until  the  sun  i'^  quite  high.  We  have  streaks  of 
light  over  the  water  in  summer  and  over  the  snow  in  win- 
ter that  are  very  beautiful.  The  contour  of  the  lake  is 
extremely  irregular,  so  that  the  light  is  constantly  changing 
as  the  sun  falls  first  on  one  and  then  on  another  hill  or 
clilT.  We  never  tire  of  sitting  in  front  of  our  cabin  and 
watching  it. 

When  a  thunderstorm  comes  up  in  summer  the  sight 
is  superb.,  Once  Nazaire  and  1  got  caught  in  one.  We 
were  out  in  a  canoe  when  we  saw  it  coming,  and  although 
we  paddled  as  hard  as  we  could,  it  burst  on  us  before 
we  were  half  way  across  the  lake.  I  never  knew  it  to 
rain  harder.  We  were  drenched  through  in  two  minutes. 
After  that  we  sat  still,  paddling  along  easily  and  enjoying 
the  scene.  It  did  not  matter  how  hard  it  rained,  we  could 
not  get  any  wetter.  There  was  no  wind  at  all,  but  the 
whole  surface  of  the  lake,  as  far  as  we  could  see,  was  one 
great  splash,  so  hard  did  the  big  drops  come  down.  It 
was  grand  to  hear  the  peals  of  thunder  crashing  and  echo- 
ing from  the  hills  and  cliffs. 

But  we  must  return  to  our  winter  trip.  The  little  girl 
continued  fishing  till  we  were  obliged  to  call  her  in.  It 
looked  cold  out  there,  while  indoors  the  cabin  was  warm 
and  cozy,  the  trout  were  sizzling  in  the  frying  pan,  and 
the  coffee  stearnin^  in  the  coffee  pot, 


,  '.KMnIm' 


z 

H 
m 
?o 

C/) 

c: 
z 

m 


I   I  !.' 


h 


i!/;m> 


".'iWi^-^fiWI 


A  WINTER  EXCURSION. 


^91 


Fishing  through  ice  is  no  sport  to  your  true  fisherman, 
although  it  has  some  interest  when  the  fish  are  to  form  a 
considerable  item  of  your  daily  food.  Trout  fishing  in 
summer  is  another  thing.  Then  there  is  no  sport  more 
delightful,  whether  you  try  with  all  your  skill  to  throw  a 
carefully  selected  fly  under  the  branches  that  overhang  a 
shady  pool  where  you  feel  sure  some  beauty  is  lying,  not 
very  hungry  but  liable  to  be  tempted  by  a  dainty  morsel; 
or  whether  in  the  early  morning  you  push  your  canoe  out 
into  the  placid 
lake  that  the  sun, 
just  beginning  to 
gild  the  tree-tops, 
has  not  yet 
touched,  to  invite 
some  of  those 
lively  fellows  that 
you  see  jumping  and  sporting  just  beyond  you  to  come 
in  to  your  breakfast  table ;  or  whether  in  the  afternoon 
you  stand  on  some  jutting  rock,  reached  with  difficulty, 
among  fierce  rapids,  and  do  battle  with  some  noble  fish 
that  will  test  all  your  tackle  and  all  your  skill.  In  all 
these  is  sport.  But  in  winter  there  is  nothing  of  them ; 
no  sharp  rush,  no  bended  rod,  no  strained  line.  The  fish 
bite  lazily  and  are  pulled  up  easily.  If  you  have  a  bit  of 
the  sportsman  in  you,  you  will  only  take  what  you  need 
to  eat. 

What  with  fishing,  skating,  sliding,  cooking,  and  eating, 
our  first  day  passed  quickly,  in  the  evening  we  played 
casino,  the  simple  and  popular  game  of  cards  with  the 
French  Canadians.  The  children  played  with  Nazaire  and 
Simeon,  and  the  mixture  of  languages  was  as  picturesque  to 
hear  as  the  light  of  our  one  candle  on  their  faces  was  to  see. 
The  purely  accidental  effect  was  almost  Rembrandtesque. 


1 


r     I 


r.1    ^         'I 


192 


A  WINTER  EXCUKSIOIN. 


«l 


The  girls  could  speak  but  little  French  and  the  men  no 
English;  but  they  made  themselves  understood,  and  the 
games  were  merry. 

Next  morning  we  were  surprised  to  find  it  blowing  a 
gale.  The  gorgeous  sunset  of  the  night  before  had  given 
us  no  warning  of  the  storm,  although  Nazaire  had  ex- 
pressed the  opinion  that  the  weather  was  too  fine  to  last. 
It  snowed  more  or  less  all  day,  but  the  girls  fished  all  the 
same  ;  and,  boisterous  as  it  was,  they  caught  seventy-one 
fine  trout,  so  we  had  no  fear  of  a  famine. 

John's  leave  of  absence  expired  the  next  day  and  he 
was  obliged  to  leave  us.  We  escorted  him  part  way  back 
and  then  left  him  to  Nazaire,  to  be  shown  the  way  to  a 
place  where  a  carter  with  his  cariole  had  been  directed  to 
meet  him.  Nazaire  undertook  to  lead  him  by  a  short  cut 
down  a  very  steep  place,  and  he  got  some  rare  tumbles,  be- 
ing a  heavy  man  and  not  used  to  snowshoes.  Nazaire  said  he 
was  sometimes  compelled  to  stand  still  and  roar  at  John's 
flounderings.  He  left  with  Nazaire  a  challenge  to  some 
ladies  to  come  down  by  the  same  route.  Two  of  them 
accepted  it,  and  probably  have  not  forgotten  their  expe- 
rience. This  day  we  set  up  our  tent  for  the  extra  accom- 
modation, as  well  as  for  the  cooking,  which  sometimes 
made  the  cabin  too  hot  for  us.  We  tramped  the  snow 
down  hard  with  our  snowshoes,  pitched  the  tent,  set  up 
our  little  stove,  spread  branches  a  foot  thick,  and  made 
everybody  comfortable. 

The  first  visitor  to  arrive  was  the  surveyor.  He  was 
capital  company,  full  of  interesting  anecdotes  and  experi- 
ences. He  had  worked  in  Canadian  woods  all  his  life,  he 
said,  but  this  was  his  first  surveying  party  "  with  picnic  at- 
tachment." Heseemed  to  enjoy  the  variety.  It  was  amusing 
to  hear  him  tell  a  story,  addressing  himself  first  to  Nazaire 


A  WINTER   EXCURSION. 


19:^ 


up 
lade 


he 

at- 

ing 

lire 


in  French  and  then  continuing  to  the  rest  of  us  in  English, 
without  stopping  to  interpret. 

He  had  passed  through  many  dangers  and  hardships, 
but  the  most  serious  of  all  was  a  time  when  with  his  whole 
party  he  was  in  danger  of  starvation. 

On  their  return  from  a  long  trip  they  found  that  the 
cache  where  their  provisions  were  hidden  had  been  found 
by  a  carcajou  (wolverine),  and  that  everything  was  de- 
stroyed. They  struggled  along  on  short  rations  for  a  few 
days,  but  some  of  the  men  grew  weak,  and  progress  was 
slow,  it  was  evident  that  something  must  be  risked  or 
all  would  perish.  My  friend  and  one  of  the  Indians  took 
nearly  all  the  remaining  provisions,  amounting  to  three 
biscuits  each,  and  started  for  the  nearest  house,  one  hun- 
dred miles  away.  They  reached  it  just  at  evening  of  the 
third  day.  The  surveyor  kicked  otT  his  snowshoes  at  the 
door,  threw  himself  on  a  bed,  and  slept  sixteen  hours. 
When  he  waked,  the  Indian  had  already  started  back, 
with  all  the  pro\'isions  he  could  carry.  He  found  the  men 
just  able  to  drag  tlicmselves  to  a  stream  for  water,  and  that 
was  all ;  but  the  supply  of  food  revived  them,  and  they 
reached  the  settlement  in  safety. 

After  the  storm  already  mentioned  the  weather  grew 
very  cold,  ranging  mostly  from  ten  to  twenty  degrees 
below  zero,  and  for  several  days  the  thermometer  did  not 
rise  above  zero  at  any  time.  Our  lowest  record  was 
thirty-eight  below.  The  surveyor,  Nazaire,  and  1  did  what 
we  had  to  do,  and  the  girls  amused  themselves  in  the 
cabin.  They  were  perfectly  happy  and  contented,  but 
grew  tired  of  fishing.  There  was  much  jollity  when  we 
came  back  to  the  cabin  at  night.  Sime'on  was  left  in 
charge  during  the  day  to  bring  wood  and  water,  cut  holes 
in  the  ice,  work  about  the  camp,  and  see  that  no  accident 
befell  the  children. 


I 


H94 


A  WINTER   EXCURSION, 


The  surveyor  left  us,  and  other  visitors  came  thick  and 
fast  in  his  place  :  first,  two  young  ladies,  sisters,  and  their 
two  brothers;  then  our  artistic  friend  and  his  equally 
artistic  wife,  and  other  relatives  and  friends  of  our  guests 
and  ourselves,  until  the  whole  extent  of  our  accommoda- 
tions was  required.  There  was  no  dulness  in  our  camp. 
So  many  young  people,  all  relatives  or  intimately  ac- 
quainted, and  all  cheerful  and  agreeable,  could  not  fail  to 
find  amusement.  There  were  visits  to  neighboring  lumber 
camps,  snowshoe  races,  and  other  entertainments,  notably 
once  a  three-legged  race  in  deep  snow. 

if  one  wants  a  jolly  good  laugh  let  him  get  some  of  his 
friends  to  try  a  three-legged  race  in  two  and  a  half  feet  of 
snow.  But  1  would  not  advise  him  to  try  one  himself, 
unless  he  is  young  and  strong.  General  hilarity  prevailed 
in  the  short  intervals  between  eating  and  sleeping  times. 
As  for  cooking  times,  1  think  there  were  no  intervals.  The 
ladies  took  that  department  out  of  Nazaire's  hands  and 
kept  it  in  constant,  if  irregular,  operation.  A  little  stirring 
of  soup  followed  by  the  practising  of  a  dance,  songs  sung 
between  washing  the  spoons  and  cleaning  the  knives,  and 
other  little  fancies  such  as  light-hearted  girls  might  indulge 
in,  took  up  their  time,  and  they  were  happy.  We  older 
people  read,  wrote,  talked,  or  looked  on  as  we  felt  inclined. 
There  was  no  ennui.  It  never  came  near  Lake  Clair  to 
my  knowledge,  although  Nazaire  and  1  have  spent  many 
days  there  quite  alone. 

Of  music  there  was  no  lack.  Our  man  Simeon  proved 
to  be  a  capital  singer  as  well  as  a  violinist.  His  was  not 
the  ordinary  voice  of  the  Canadian  woodsman,  a  mere 
head-tone  used  at  a  very  high  pitch,  but  a  real  baritone, 
and  used  in  a  manner  that  one  of  our  visitors,  who  ought 
to  know,  said  would  not  disgrace  a  city  concert-room. 
How  he  came  by  such  a  style  1  cannot  tell.    He  never 


A  WINTER   EXCURSION. 


195 


could  have  heard  a  really  first-class  singer  in  his  life.  It 
was  one  of  those  things  that,  like  reading  and  writing, 
"come  by  nature." 

He  gave  us  such  fine  songs  as  "L<j  drapeau  de  Caril- 
lion,'' ''  Le  Zouave  en  Algerie,"  and  many  others  not  less 
worthy. 

Singularly  enough,  he  was  not  well  acquainted  with  the 
words  of  the  common  popular  songs  mentioned  elsewhere, 
such  as  "/I  la  claire  fontaine,"  and  the  like,  that  almost 
every  one  knows,  so  we  got  none  of  them  from  him.  We 
had  a  variety  of  these,  however,  one  evening  a  little  later, 
sung  in  true  lumberman  fashion,  high  and  loud,  without 
the  least  expression,  by  an  accidental  visitor  to  whom  we 
gave  shelter. 

Some  of  the  ladies  also  were  singers,  and  their  con- 
tributions ranged  all  the  way  from  the  most  absurd  college 
songs  to  "  Lascia  ch'  io  pianga  "  and  Reinecke's  "  Walde- 
gruss,"  very  prettily  sung. 

Our  guests  having  almost  all  departed,  my  little  girls 
went  home  one  day  by  the  long  route,  leaving  two  yc\iry^ 
ladies  to  go  with  me  by  the  short  cut  that  John  !iad  chal- 
lenged them  to  follow.  Nazaire  took  our  extra  wraps 
and  went  on  ahead.  As  we  crossed  the  lake  and  looked 
back  at  our  deserted  cabin  I  am  not  sure  but  one  of  the 
girls  shed  a  few  quiet  tears,  thinking  of  the  pleasant  week 
she  had  passed,  and  that  she  was  not  likely  ever  to  see 
the  place  again.  At  any  rate  both  of  them  walked  on 
some  time  in  silence,  and  1  heard  none  of  the  accustomed 
cheerful  laughter  and  girlish  chaff,  usually  so  plentiful 
between  those  two.  Many  parties  have  visited  our  camp 
since  then,  but  1  think  none  have  enjoyed  so  much  pure 
and  unalloyed  pleasure  as  this  first  party  of  all. 

But  Nazaire  was  far  ahead,  and  we  were  obliged  to 
follow.    When  we  came  to  the  place  where  the  path 


196 


A   WINTER   EXCURSION. 


H. 


diverges  there  was  a  discussion  as  to  whether  we  should 
accept  our  friend  John's  challenge  to  go  down  by  the 
way  he  went,  or  take  the  longer  and  less  interesting  road 
around  the  side  of  the  hill.  Of  course  the  discussion  re- 
sulted in  acceptance,  for  the  girls  declared  that  if  John 
could  go  down  so  could  they.  Nazaire  was  waiting  for 
us  and  assured  us  that  there  was  no  positive  danger, 
although  the  way  was  "  bien,  bien  a  pic  "  (very,  very 
steep). 

He  had  already  been  down  with  his  pack  and  come 
back  by  the  road.  We  rested  a  little  and  then  followed 
him.  It  was "  bien,  bien  a  pic,"  sure  enough.  I  myself  was 
the  first  to  come  to  grief.  Trying  to  get  over  some  fallen 
timber  I  made  a  misstep  and  pitched  headlong.  Head 
and  arms  went  deep  into  the  soft  snow,  and  heels  high 
into  the  air,  with  the  snowshoes  dangling.  My  cap  and 
whatever  1  had  in  my  hands  went  away  down  the  bill, 
in  such  a  position  one  flounders  about  a  good  deal  before 
he  can  get  his  feet  under  him  ;  but  one  of  the  girls  man- 
aged to  climb  down  and  lend  a  hand  towards  helping 
me  up. 

We  all  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill  in  safety,  and  after 
discussing  and  rejecting  a  proposition  to  go  back  and  try 
the  descent  again,  we  went  on.  Nazaire  assured  us  we 
had  tumbled  much  less  than  John,  which  was  a  satisfac- 
tion ;  but  John  will  not  believe  it  to  this  day.  Anyway, 
if  he  got  a  worse  tumble  than  I,  it  was  a  lively  fall. 

From  there  to  the  bank  of  the  river  was  an  excellent 
road,  and  nearly  all  down  hill.  We  passed  the  lumber- 
men's camp  without  stopping  ;  but  we  were  quite  willing  to 
stop  and  rest  again  by  the  logs,  as  we  had  done  going  up. 
The  place  was  quite  exposed  and  rather  cold,  so  we  walked 
on  down  the  river ;  but  there  was  a  strong  wind  and  the 


A  WINTER  EXCURSION. 


197 


walking  was  not  as  good  as  before.     If  it  seemed  three 
miles  going  up,  it  seemed  six  going  down. 

Our  cariole  arrived  a  few  minutes  after  us,  and  an 
hour's  ride  found  us  all  at  home  again. 

So  ended  our  first  winter  camping  expedition,  and  all 
voted  that  it  had  been  one  of  thorough  pleasure.  All 
declared  they  would  go  again  if  they  ever  had  the  oppor- 
tunity. 

Winter  camping  is  preferable  to  summer  in  that  there 
are  no  troublesome  flies  or  mosquitoes,  and  that  it  is  easy 
going  through  the  woods  on  snowshoes.  The  summer 
gives  many  delights 
that  winter  does 
not  ;  but  each  sea- 
son has  its  charm. 

Every  one  of  my 
party  professes  his 
or  her  willingness 
to  go  to  Lake  Clair 
again  at  any  time. 

We  were  reading 
some  glowing  ac- 
counts of  the  winter 
paradise  of  South- 
ern California.  One 
of  the  little  girls  said,  "  Lake  Clair  is  our  winter  paradise  ;  " 
and  so  we  call  it. 

It  is  our  grand  sanitarium.  Whatever  little  maladies  we 
have  are  usually  left  there.  Influenza,  neuralgia,  rheum- 
atism, or  malarial  complaints  seldom  find  their  way  back 
from  Lake  Clair. 

Since  the  time  of  this  first  family  visit  to  Lake  Clair 
our  cabin  has  been  much  enlarged,  and  every  year  we 
have  a  number  of  guests.    We  have  not  the  luxurious 


^11 


=^ 


I 


198 


6''  I 


I 


A    WINTER  EXCURSION. 


accommodations  of  the  modern  fishing  club;  but  we  have 
enough  to  furnisli  all  essential  comforts  for  visitors,  as 
well  as  for  my  own  limited  requirements  in  winter. 

Of  course  we  do  considerable  fishing  in  summer  and 
equally  of  course  we  have  all  sorts  of  luck.  Sometimes 
after  much  canoeing,  walking,  wading,  and  hard  work 
generally,  we  get  but  little  for  our  pains,  and  at  other  times 
when  our  hopes  and  expectations  are  low  we  strike  a  good 
bit  of  sport.  One  thing  1  will  say  for  ourselves, — we 
never  waste  any  fish.    When  we  get  as  many  as  we  can 


use,  we  stop  fishing.  And  although  we  never  get  any  fish 
big  enough  to  tell  lies  about  in  the  newspapers,  we  seldom 
fail  to  catch  enough  for  our  next  meal. 

Among  our  summer  visitors  at  the  lake  we  have  a  good 
many  ladies.  Of  course  they  all  think  they  can  take  fish 
as  well  as  anybody,  and  we  always  give  them  a  chance  to 
try.  But  it  is  as  difficult  for  a  woman  to  throw  a  fly  as  it  is 
for  her  to  throw  a  stone.  I  at  times  try  to  give  them  a  few 
lessons  in  the  art,  taking  good  care,  however,  to  pull  my 
hat  well  down  over  my  eyes  and  ears,  to  avoid  accidents. 
Ladies  need  a  good  deal  of  practice  before  they  can  handle 


!S3 


A  WINTER  EXCURSION. 


199 


a  fly  rod  with  even  moderate  certainty  or  safety.  I  keep 
a  couple  of  rods  especially  for  ladies'  use.  They  are  not 
allowed  to  disport  themselves  with  my  own  particular  pet 
tackle.  Perhaps  it  is  a  little  mean  of  me,  but  I  think  that 
a  good  stout  rod  and  worn-out  flies  are  just  as  good  to 
frighten  trout  with  as  any  others. 

They  rarely  accomplish  much,  for  what  with  untangling 
their  lines,  getting  their  hooks  out  of  their  own  and 
their  neighbors'  hair  and  dresses  and  their  own  fingers, 
there  is  not  much  time  left  for  other  departments  of  the 
sport.  So  far  as  the  real  taking  of  trout  is  concerned, 
I  doubt  if  it  is  any  advantage  to  have  ladies  in  the  party. 
I  have  known  a  very  inexperienced  fisherman  to  take  his 
rod  and  net,  go  away  alone  and  bring  back  a  very  hand- 
some string  of  fish;  when  a  far  more  practised  hand,  who 
took  a  lady  with  him,  came  back  with  scarcely  any  fish 
at  all.  It  was  a  lovely  afternoon  for  fishing,  too :  soft  and 
cloudy,  with  a  light  breeze  blowing,  that  made  all  the 
trees  wave  their  branches  as  if  in  benediction.  Still,  there 
was  fully  as  much  excitement  in  our  camp  that  evening 
as  if  those  two  persons  had  brought  in  all  the  trout  they 
could  carry. 


I  good 
fish 

:e  to 
it  is 
few 
my 

nits. 

Indie 


13 


'""^^^^P^S 


BLESS  YOU  MY  CHILDREN 

A'i 


